i try to recall the park that night
(beneath a sea of stars?):
how we walked around the pond (twice?)
our hands brushed (by accident?) as we
sat upon the cold (wooden?) bench,
how you looked wearing my (grey?) hat
with your (silver?) hoop earrings
as you slipped off your (shoes?)
and i tried not to shiver.

the details are foggy,
elusive approaching fictitious,
but what remains are two things: that
feeling that something
really fucking great
was about to happen
and the taste of the scent of the leaves.

Inundated.

Sentances dripping from mouths
dampening collared shirts
only making necks below
uncomfortable

Unimaginable.
‘I miss you’

Unfathomable.
‘Come home’

Those tracks
are out of service.
They’ll be torn for scrap
eventually.

Inundated
with the world watching
the world watching
the world.

Problems hardly fix themselves
dripping from mouths to
collars.

Please come home