We fall back on clichés at times like this, I'd rather fall back with you instead, onto the footpath, we could talk things over, a forest of people moving overhead, but you don't want a little room an everywhere scenario, or not with me, not now, besides you're hurrying for work, and the words we use aren't words so much as cries, just random sounds for all the stuff we can't talk about, not yet, not words so much as wolves, they hide behind the sunlit city buildings, getting closer, dodging through the traffic and the crowds, they gather in a circle round us, howling, and when you leave, they follow me back home.