Blind strangers in a Northern town we met,
You smiled uneasily at me, and I
Returned your gaze, frowned at your cigarette,
And almost wincing, straightened up my tie.
Hello: you said. Hello. And, names exchanged,
We found a tavern that was to your like,
We sat and drank, already half-estranged;
Both of us knew this was a pointless hike.
The conversation died the death before
We started talking almost, but we sat
And drank until we neither cared for more;
My cider tasted sharp, your lager, flat.
I walked you to the station where we stood
Beneath the shelter, shielded from the rain,
And though we didn’t speak, both understood
The reason we would never meet again.
Your bus pulled in, I smiled, and said to you:
No chemistry...we kissed once, then: Adieu.
[The above was first published in Wrong Side Of The River.]
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