The days pass swimmingly.
If it wasn’t for my sister and Father,
I would call this happiness.
My girlfriend glows brighter
than a supernova. She is clearly
content. The only downer is that
some idiot is tossing glass bottles
into our tiny backyard. They explode
like incendiary devices, around midnight.
We jump up, startled, curse the morons,
then snuggle deep in our duvet.
There is an element of black comedy,
I am beginning to think, in even
the most heartbreaking things.