Pissing

Tonight you pissed in the carpark before driving home;

I made it until getting back to pee in my garden - these

old-guy bladders separated by a few years, and I have those

on my side, not that this is the obvious contest. We also

forgot things in talking, though you would help me out and

I was able to recall the odd touchstone before it could fall

like an apocalypse into your own head. So there we were

and are at this moment of release and clarity, both

fighting for supremacy in a battle already snuck up on us,

and at the end of our drink together we both had roads

to travel and miles to share the same or thereabout.

The frost was a crust by the time we got to our cars
to leave, and in a December sky the moon and stars were

there as always, twinkling, or their lights piddling out.