Young people sitting
Streaked with a green patina of tears
accrued over years of open scrutiny
they sit not on a pedestal
in a celebrated square
but on low stools, by a leafy lakeside
walkway, leaning into each other’s spaces
her hands clasped in front seeming
to hold the secret of their bond
or its dissolution
his eyes draw down from a hand-cradled
face, perhaps not grasping
while hers attend unblinking
engaged, oblivious to the summer stream
of passing couples, walking
or cycling or wandering free.