Finding Ways To Be Alone

 

Peter sits nursing a cup of tea and an almond slice

Going through arguments he should have won in 1996

He used to come here, back then,

More often

With more hope, and more hair

And a girl with whom he tried, quite hard

To fall in love

But who proved resistant to his ways

You can’t smoke in here any more

The ghosts of cigarettes linger amid

The smell of frying bacon and floor cleaner

It’s unlikely anyone ever successfully fell in love

In here

Or - at least - no two people fell in love with each other

200 miles away, Sarah signals the barman and

Orders another couple of beers

Puts her left hand in her pocket to best conceal 

Her wedding ring

It isn’t a conscious thing

Part of her just knows the way this conversation’s going

She can tell from the smoke that a fire is coming

The sun is doing afternoon stuff through the window

Gold on the wood panels and through the dust motes

She laughs a little too hard at the tall guy’s bad joke

And feels the bite of the cold beer

And she’s not thought of that cafe in years

But for a second, the daytime disappears

And she hears the ghost of a Britpop song

Over tinny cafe speakers

And feels the distance tug inside

And tastes, for a second, the bitter tang Of lukewarm tea and an almond slice