I can tell by the gentle slope of the hallway
as I wade on through leftover luggage
and by the way the fluorescent lights
unignite
I'm just a little fool
I've got no head for physics or for maths
I've lived my life for pretty lights
glasses of effervescent wines
minor crimes
of the heart.
It's not my area of expertise
but this near to the closing of it all
even I can tell our ship is sinking.
Go to, unblinking. Hike up your skirts of cobwebbed silks
and carry on. Here, the stairs.
The rushing of the ocean
cannot overtake
the memories of dancing
just a little while ago.
I know where the exits are
I can even swim. I won't.
This is the closing of the ball.
The last call.
There's no one waiting on the shore.
The lifeboats have already left.
Yet, I've got an itch
a pinprick of a thought
that if I get to the deck up top
the stars will still be smiling high above.