Everything about you,
my life, is both
make-believe and real.
We are like a couple
working the night shift
in a bomb factory.
Come quietly, one says
to the other
as he takes her by the hand
and leads her
to a rooftop
overlooking the city.
At this hour, if one listens
long and hard,
one can hear a fire engine
in the distance,
but not the cries for help,
just the silence
growing deeper
at the sight of a small child
leaping out of a window
with its nightclothes on fire.
-Charles Simic
