As all the lonely flags slowly flap and lick
At the sky in the empty caryard,
We turn up our collars and breathe into our hands
And twist the rucksack material across our shoulders
Waiting for the birth of fresh lights on the main road
Three hoods force us to walk into the wet grass
To avoid their path,
They’re hurrying to get home to heaters and sheets,
The same as us.
So cold as our breath floats out in ghosts,
And we twist scarfs around throats and pull down woollen hats,
Our sight is blurred by thirst, and this may be the last time I’ll ever see you,
Which makes the cold seem so much worse,
We’ve fought before, and made each other make the trip solo,
But this time we are together. Alone.
Best keep walking, they close soon.
And inside we point out bottles of clear and tea coloured liquids,
And you say you will not drink that, but will drink that.
Scoop enough that our collected money will buy.
And move under fluoro to the cracked counter,
Where the skinny tired salesman shivers what a cold night.
We both agree.