Invincible summer |||

Loose Endings

Piccadilly Line, November 2004

Grey winter morning, car parks,
West London factory roofs —
all adventures end
somewhere like this.

If you walk away from it,
it’s a landing. When did I know
you wouldn’t pull out?

Everything is ending here:
the handset with the number in it
you won’t answer.
Is it torn at your end now
or out of me?

The books
I can’t return