Second Draft

September 25, 2011

It was after the Tottenham Riots

and after the trouble at work,
after the cuts, and Libya, Syria,
the death of the singer
the dancing at the carnival.

The day after she came back home

we drank tea in her kitchen

poured from a saucepan

boiled on a stove.

We walked down her quiet street.

Small leaves, heaped into crevices.

It was the day after they discovered


that time travel might be possible.
We ate lunch, lemonade and cups of tea.
Light pressed in against the windows.

After the deaths and the riots,
as we sat there in her kitchen,
small hands, dark hair,

the day after particles

broke every rule.

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