Oh Auden

It was not that way
No idle scratching horse or careless children.
We were entombed in Trudie’s carbon womb of freedom
Parked and fighting crying sighing
(as my parents loved to fight
away from us who knew what was going on anyway)
Instead
A couple on a rooftop danced
Arm in arm
Circling like skaters on a pond
Perhaps carving Alice
But like as much just each others names
Slowly unwinding from the week
While beside the smokey car, our battleground or graveyard or our bed
A girl in heavy woolen garb
Played a folky guitar
All while yodelling
Summoning with fiercesome lungs
A peaked mountain a vat of cheese a precision timepiece.

Were we not suffering?

Certainly, I felt my shoulders
Slick with melted wax.