I thought it was you, yesterday’s Angel;
who had dared break love’s enterprise
to me, those few long yesteryears ago
when I was so much more the man.
Yesterday, driving past a shop too fast
to be sure, you’re standing by the door,
laughing in tight blue; I kind of knew
the punch-line to whatever shared joke
it was might have then just tickled you.
Corner shop, remember it? Cheap rate
bottled booze, under the counter fags,
bread and cake past its sell by dates,
2 for 1 own brand dishrags, ratty bags
to tote home the odd flavoured crisps
you try once at your own risk. We split.
Slow, slow and quickstep your sidekick’s
parking - see that’s me in front, pulling
up heart-break handbrakes, grasping
for shock absorbers, inertial dampers,
both awe-frozen by whatever chance
took us together for a second glance.
But, after the fact, never looking back.
I thought it was you (was it really?), No.
I can’t be sure, time rolls on and we go
until we’re both down past anyway, gone;
your spirit left while mine stayed so long.
I thought it was you (does it matter?) No.
An impression in blue planted will grow
roots, dreams skin tight about your chest
ample swell my thoughts to do the rest.
Thought it was you (and it could’ve been),
the way my stomach flip-flopped inside
my heart trying to make itself be seen,
as love boxed twelve rounds with pride
and won, left me longing for some prize
from the Angel of yesterday’s enterprise.