the smell of rain on dust
the one cool corner of the duvet
mango sprinkled with lime juice
the way you look back as you walk away
You kept me in your memory
and I felt I could not leave
I sat still or lay and slept
while you thought of me
But I had changed and have done again
If you could see or taste me now
you would understand I hope
He stood three steps down from the road crossing and two in towards the shop window the back of his head was reflected in. Breathe, he said below his breath. Breathe. He used his thin hands as a brown paper bag and began to feel better. His vision slowed its spinning and he could almost focus on the police van parked opposite. Hello John, said the voice again. Not bad, he said, and yourself? But I didn’t ask you, said the voice. I just said hello.
That’s more than I’m used to.
That’s as may be.
I must be going.
Please don’t go, he said below his breath. Please. He unbuttoned his coat as if he had arrived home.