In this desert of a city
We welcome any intervention
To our hearts, hard made of steel
Each lover is a mobile oasis
Draining down each refreshing meeting
On a busy street corner
Cafes and bars are no longer needed
Though intermittently indulged
Carefully we plan our shotgun weddings
To avoid the pitfalls of those lost before us
The flak jacket of consciousness
Shields us from the shrapnel of love itself
While baser instincts neglect
A distant early warning
And we scramble in the aftermath
To pick up the fragments
Of our pandemonium fortress
Disgusted, we remind ourselves of fragility
Scoffing at what the world offers
And resigned to hating change

The author is dead, I'd appreciate any comments.
Last edited by Radical Bob at Mar 12, 2009,
I was saddened to hear of the author's untimely demise, but I'll happily share my thoughts with the heirs.

Overall, I thought this was outstanding, and I was rather surprised no one had commented on it, yet. This:

And without warning
The bomb is dropped

sent up a cliché flag, though. I feel like I know what you're trying to get here: a direct hit, as opposed to a grenade or a nearby explosion. However, I have to think there's a way to say this that you can find that everybody and his sister won't already have used. I would think that finding it would be worth the search.

Gotta go. More later, maybe.