task at hand

it was in the fifteen
brief minutes
just before dawn
that we made our first mistake.

you braced yourself
against the wind
in my thick grey coat

and watched the frozen smile
melting
down my face.

we had instructions
written in the only language
we could understand,
but we weren't counting
on being beaten
to the mark.

you'd bought just enough
bruce springsteen bootlegs
to get us through the night

and maybe that delirium
of testosterone
had left us
weak and spent

or perhaps
we were never
cut out
in the first place
for
the task at hand.