When the lines in messages
Lost their score
And the words became
Myriad like stars
At nine morning
Monday
We are walking
In the heart
Of a crowded bubbling city
Asking each other
Rhetorical questions
If you were married with me
And met me again
As a single woman
Would you divorce me
To marry me again
As if in your surreal reality
There are two of me
If you were married
Would you consider
To divorce and marry me
In your reality
There’s only
One of me
14 October 2019