Once a year or so I’ll see another one:
her far off stare going up the stair,
the imperceptible twinge of thumb and forefinger,
a glance of recognition

Fugitives in dusty straits,
we’ll stop to exchange 
notes on how to avoid trouble:
additions and subtractions will be used
as antidotes for our common division.
Outside the city wall we’ll sit on modest benches
and watch barges carry mountains down
the river.  We’ll be fascinated with the blackness,
thrilled with the tonnage…and damage

Then we’ll start in,
our real work will be with sines and cosines,
(god’s equations can never go wrong)

Towards the end
sleep will become a problem.
We’ll stretch out on oak planks
and count each other’s coarse woolies 
as they leap the fence