We won't keep rats

It is cold in the pet shop
and full of couples like us,
Clucking easy down the aisles,
Their stretched smiles
stitched upon each others
carefree sleeves

And I’d normally want to leave at this,
But we are going through a good patch
So we laugh,
our hands held fast
In each others pockets, weaving
in and out and past the others
Until we stop at a cage
Where two rats are sleeping
Tired from licking
and gnawing at their bars
They are snuffling in sawdust
much warmer than we are

And I suggest
‘Hey, why don’t we get some of these?’
Your unimpressed face turns,
snaps at me

‘No, Mark. There is no way on this earth we will ever keep rats.’

You walk on, I stay still
feeling our easy mood collapse.

And as we continue our tour,
My remarks are scratched
More
Carefully
I'm smiling,
but something clammy inside
insists on being there with me
And I'm sinking, thinking
Of your answer to my question.

No, Mark.
We won’t keep rats.
We probably will no longer collapse
boozed on the sofa.
We won’t be late in paying our bills.
We will have instead what we need each
and every day
Until
We die
And I’m not sure
But the need
for what I don’t need
Still has the need to stay alive

So secretly, while we walk
I’m sniffing out a series of thoughts
Where I will get rats.
Loads.
Until the house is full with those
Hairy sacks
And in that world you’re indisposed, absent
Or maybe even dead
And I have all the rats
I could ever want instead
We communicate seamlessly
Take turns watching Bravo on TV
Laugh over takeaway
discuss the different ways
We left the toilet seat up today
In stagnant rat-filled freedom
To last throughout eternity

And I must stress
That I don’t even like rats

But I am very aware
That I don’t like them less than you

And as the pet shop closes
I follow you, thinking about
How straight and narrow these aisles suddenly are,
And whilst we seem like the other couples
Going back to other cars
I’m watching the other men with horror
Aware how, like me, they’re most likely licking
And gnawing at their bars.