Accommodation for Owls

The guest houses have shut for the winter.
The last bus out of here (and there are only two a day)
has gone. It's after five. And my new friends, Colin and Joy,
whose offer of a camp bed in an outhouse I've accepted gratefully,
are telling me about their courtship in the games room
of a mental hospital near Leith. Axe-murderers.

If I don't mind. Feel comfortable with the idea.
They fumble for a joke and go quiet.
...