Probably she
doesn’t think of me
half as much
as me thinks of she;

& seven days
later ,these four
walls of my
white slightly dirty

give colourful
reminders of last
saturday
night—

what is she
doing now?of
miss her
longer unaround

but these hours
of longing the sweet
neck her laugh
, northern accent sound

are tuned
from silence into
something
at written down last.