(blame the resonance of mince, lentils and black bean casserole)
There is no mobile phone.
You miss the train and trust
he will wait for you.
There is no supermarket.
You buy a meat pie from the corner shop
and a tin of Batchelor peas.
There is no video recorder.
You watch Planet of the Apes
on a black and white portable
and make your own entertainment:
marjuana grown from seed in terracotta pots;
you play marbles, and lose them.
You picture him in Euston Road,
head bowed against the hard rain.
It is so cold.
There is nothing but the Incredible
String Band singing, this moment is different
from any before it. These moments -
you will hold them in your palm,
string them together like beads,
hang the beads around your neck:
each train the last train;
each bead the last bead;
each minute the last minute.