©2021 Michael Raven
i like to pretend it is you, there, at the station waiting in your sensible black dress with sensible black shoes your dark hair a jumble of curls for my train to come in
Edit 11.35am, local: For some reason, I am almost pleased with the results of this one today (I’ve very critical of my own writing, so “almost pleased” is high praise for myself to give to myself). Maybe because it almost captures what I see in my mind’s eye, with the exception of the omission of a slight turn of one corner of the mouth upwards suggestive of a smile. Smile isn’t the right word, and the whole line itself is unwieldy, which is why I deleted that part, but the rest of it… I think it’s close to what I wanted.