You tossed your coat
over the chair
left it there
as you headed out.
It didn’t move for hours.
Told me you’d missed the boat;
sunk behind a white trail.
And I’m
left stranded too.
Picking up the residue from your
buttoned pockets.
You and me together,
nothing sought since.
This used ticket is fallen,
it’s garbage.
I remember that last steam journey,
the car leaving trails of
fingered moisture racing
across the panes.
Brings back the memory
of how the room once was,
before the slide.
