Suppose I take the bus that drives me straight to your door. Suppose I walk in as your city sleeps, It doesn't surprise you, you'd known I would come. Suppose all night we stay up we talk about poetry, the government and laugh at the tiny dot of black moles labouring up your thigh like lost moons. Suppose at exactly 3 am, we suddenly discover hunger. So you make me a whole meal. We dig into the soft flesh of the potatoes with nothing but our bare hands, blinking in the kitchen light.