Clutching at Straws

On a bench
at
Lansdowne Road Station,
waiting for the train with my
whiter-than-white
shoes on and my
whiter-than-right
view of it all.
I was sitting beside a girl,
as the story generally goes.
She looked a lot like
you.

I hope it wasn’t.
We missed an excellent opportunity
to hold hands
in the cool evening air,
to make faces at
the people speeding by,
to pretend to fall in love.

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