You step out of the shower,
after spending too long with your hands in your hair.
Wrapping a towel round the curves
Shaving, brushing, leaving the steam
to dry.
You pick up the post.
Bill, circular, statement.
That long expected letter never comes.
Untangle your hands from the fridge,
settle down, reach for the remote control.
At about two you dress to go into town.
Pass people who should know better
than to talk.
Trouble over what to buy,
mouthwash or chocolate
And walk, and walk until you're home.
Stars appear. Night falls.
Lists revolve around your head.
What's been, what is, what can't be undone.
Deceptions, betrayals,
Your fear and your fun
of having to get up and do it
all over again.
Lying in your place,
the dawn chorus sounds
like an endless chore.
