Beautiful slobs

That night I can really tell
we had a moment.
One of these when time stops
and everyone’s in tune
with the frequency the night dictates.
Two of us arguing about
constellations by the open window
the other two counting cars
going by, making up stories
about the guy reading a book
in his room opposite our own.
And there was Leonard Cohen playing
mumbling lyrics we knew
but didn’t understand yet savoured.
Savoured the breeze topless
summerly careless
ice cubes melting
smokes burning
one yawning
one sneezing
one scrolling
one rolling,
in and out of a mood
no one talked about,
a mood not to be jinxed.
In our underwear,
cross-legged, mind-tangled,
restless but slow.
And I remember wondering
If we’re to make it to that other moment,
the sole modern times phenomenon
that makes me “aw”,
city lights giving in to morning’s arrival
in a sudden change of light and colour,
as if the world’s a canvas
and the painter changed his mind.
The sole beauty of urban life,
not to be jinxed.