New Romantics

While the others dance, we swim.

Holding on to each other like children in the water, we'll float through the crowd

of sweaty, anxious bodies.

A wandering mass of strangers who

work together,

live together,

_____ together,

(fill in the ugly space)

saying they know each other,

moving through life carelessly,

(they'll kill us out of ignorance)

identifying instead of being.

Bring me back to Camelot,

and we'll pretend they didn't hate us then.

Or take me to the future

and pretend they won't do the same.

Baby, we're the new romantics

and we armor ourselves in fantasy.