by Dale Booton

you waded through my dreams again

last night    drew yourself along the current

of the partitioned streets I had shuffled down

in my youth    beside a girl a few

days older than me    and bargained

for my time    said that you had swept along

our earlier days    the chiselled jaw

line hook and sinker    the dancefloor anchors

dragged away as they took to close the doors

and hangovers that could have been bottled up

through into the tide as a warning to others

of drinking on an empty stomach    the

awkward hugs and pissed-eyed kisses

as your hand swam up my chest    I asked

for water and you pinched my nipple    then outside

to the chippy that settled later across my floor

as if finding calm in the storm    beneath

the sheets we tested what we thought might work

I was swept away in the moment before you told me

don’t come find me    I’m happy now