Dances Were Had

With the darkness,
we held hands,
a trespass through blind fields
and silent roads,
nothing lives except poorly written
odes on the back of napkin, paper, napkin, read-back-later-paper-odes.

Roads. Roads greet us
with a painted line smile,
and an artificial light shower standing,
over everyone who is running.
They run as fast as thieves,
no bank CCTVs will catch them
with their haste and speed.

Looking back, I saw nothing happen.
Hands were held,
drinks were drunk,
dances were had,
fevers swelled up
faces turned red with love.