I didn’t want to ride past your place tonight,
not with that apprentice sun – wearing its
demi-god clothes – embarrassing the sky,
and wasted on these ungrateful streets.
The beach would surely feel better, even with
the swelling tide of kids, just delivered from
the crush of exams, revving their engines.
But every road I followed seemed to take me
your way somehow – every convoluted loop
through the anaesthetic monotony of housing.
I had to avert my eyes as I eventually, inevitably,
passed by, so I wouldn’t catch a glimpse of
that other car spooning yours on the drive,
could avoid guessing what it might mean.
first published in Brittle Star, 2017