A Pair of Thoughts

Is it a sin, do you think?
We gather after dark and climb the tallest tower,
Gazing over the city to the shore beyond.
If anyone looked up, they could see the seashells 
Threaded around our fingers and our throats,
Painted wings upon half-starved bare shoulders,
Wide eyes ringed with tired kohl.
I think about such things often.

Last night I dreamed of paradise,
Where all but the criminals spoke a common tongue.
Equal in rhetoric, so we became in demeanour and circumstance.
Do you think that sounds farfetched?
Oh come inside, my dear, you’ll catch a cold!

We turn our backs,
Satisfied to have composed profound thoughts
And heard them aired out loud.
Such fragments as these we litter on the terrace,
Magnified in grandeur by the chill, sea breeze.