We returned from the war happier, arms around our shadows—
Who claimed to be older than us. They told great jokes

Lay around barefoot, hair precisely
Unkempt, cigarettes hissing and glowing like christmas lights.

Only our fiancées were tired and bothersome,
Having forgotten how to love, or vice versa.

Some had moved to factories in other cities,
Others, when pressed said, ‘No-one’s forcing you to put up with me.’

We went skating with our shadows,
Huddled under the fir trees drinking sausage tea.

Inquisitive sheep collected around our camp;
It was good to be among the ice storm and the believers.

We described the funny pages to Simon—who had lost both his eyes
But the jokes didn’t work so well in description.