If Only I Knew The Postcode For The Ninth Circle Of Hell Beatrice

i don’t remember kissing
yr soft nicotine cheek
yr hair on the tip of my nose
weightless like air
i rapped my fingers on the window of the cab
speeding past
you
some retarded form of no i don’t really wanna say goodbye no not now
i cd see yr great big eyes
you were smiling
beatrice
standing outside the gate of yr house
looking straight thru the tinted glass i would like to think
straight at me i would like to think you were in no hurry
to panic for the house keys
yes i would like to think
a lot of things
beatrice

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