Lovebirds fat with pleasure

If we were lovers I’d want us to be lovebirds. We’d be our own exclusive flock of two. We’d book birdbaths ahead of time. I’d wake before you do to find you the best seeds before the squirrels get them. You and me, two pairs of wings, on chimney tops across London, cooing quietly to each other, so as not to attract any unecessary attention. 

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