When the lights blinked off to sleep
in the library, she and I, two
longing summer book shelvers,
sneaked into the bomb shelter for love.
We had always been ashamed
of flesh and all its yearnings,
even when we first kissed years ago
on a pair of entwined playground swings.
Now we were still so damned alone,
wandering those endless aisles of wisdom.
Because nothing makes you feel more abandoned
than thoughts of centuries draped in silence.
And so we made love for the first time
awkwardly, afraid, then laughing a bit,
while above us, distantly,
the universe exploded into stars.