three summers too latethree summers had been and gone since i last saw you. you came to return some CDs that you borrowed during our 'time' together. i had not seen you or spoken to you since that painful night.
you sat on one sofa, i on the other. we made polite conversation for the whole hour and forty eight minutes of your visit. i made you coffee and offered you a cigarette - you told me you were trying to stop. i just wanted you to want me but it was clear you were happily married.
we sat opposite one another, you continually making polite conversation; me? me continually not knowing what to do with my hands. this concept - of pleasantries - was alien to me. all the other times we were together it was all about touch.
i realised then that in those three summers the river had carried so much water under the bridge that it was impossible for me to swim back upstream.
so we sat opposite each other - simply talking. yet i was oh so distracted. your eyes, as alway