you cannot fall in love
with strangers
you fall in love
with the idea
create a filter
a sort of cellophane wrapper
dangled in front of the eyes
and everything sweeps
virus-like into colour

you’re lapping it up
a thirsty hound
making an accent that fits
as if whisking ingredients
until the texture’s correct
the two of you together
in scenarios that’ll never happen
a matinee showing
on the cinema screen in your head

you’ll picture it
and it will feel real
but you’ve fashioned a fiction
bleeding with improbable chapters
the idea a supernova
real life a distant planet