Too late for nothing, too early for anything

Unexpectedly we'll meet again years later, quite on purpose we'll mix beer and wine with vodka, to ride bicycles in the middle of the night around the estate, unexpectedly bumping into the high kerbstones, trampling flowerbeds, cutting our cheeks on branches that have sprung up unexpectedly, then unexpectedly to fall over, and pushing our warped bicycles, come to my place, to dress our wounds, and then lie down to sleep, in the morning to copulate unexpectedly like animals, out of fear that something will unexpectedly return that we felt years ago, copulating like people.