I wonder will I speak to the girl
sitting opposite me on this train.
I wonder will my mouth open and say,
'Are you going all the way
The evening advances, then withdraws again
Leaving our cups and books like islands on the floor.
We are drifting, you and I,
As far from another as the young heroes
I phone from time to time, to see if she’s
Changed the music on her answerphone.
'Tell me in two words,' goes the recording,
'what you were going to tell in a thousand.'
You paused for a moment and I heard you smoking
on the other end of the line.
I pictured your expression,
one eye screwed shut against the smoke
Everyone who made love the night before
was walking around with flashing red lights
on top of their heads-a white-haired old gentlemen,
a red-faced schoolboy, a pregnant woman
When I'm lying awake, listening to rain
hammering on the roof,
the phrase comes back to me,
our code for 'Let's get out of here'.
How do you think I feel
when you make me talk to you
and won't let me stop
till the words turn into a moan?
And so you cry for her, and the poem falls to the page
As if it knew all along that what we make of ourselves we take
From one another's hearts - tearing and shouting until we learn
How awkwardly, upstairs and behind shut doors we are born
Whether it was putting in an extra beat,
or leaving one out, I couldn't tell.
My heart seemed to have forgotten
everything it ever knew
Are you still Chinese yellow?
Are your blinds still drawn