Couple parked at the corner, 
lights off, big gestures;
arguing perhaps, speaking of
love perhaps, or perhaps of money, 
talking loudly of how one
may stall the other, how love 
conquers money, how money 
straps down love.

A newer model car,
which means nothing. A younger
looking couple, as far can be told
in this light, in this darkness — which
means nothing.

Perhaps instead
they are older 
and reliving their shared past,
or their unshared pasts.  Maybe one’s 
had the love, one’s had the money
till now and they’re looking toward 
whatever comes next
and not between them.

Perhaps, 
perhaps,
perhaps — old song
in someone’s head. Old wounds
singing to new ones. The world
surging on beyond whatever
they are gesturing toward.

The streetlight 
sputters, then goes out.