1
The train station
at St Davids floods
magazines and chocolates.
Crosswords lap
at my feet, a woman
cresting the wave
proposes to reunite me
with my ex, three things
to do written in sand,
and seven traps: do this
and he drowns
in another’s embrace.
Magazines float by:
New Scientist
Scientific American
Logic!
Where is The Economist,
life raft of the bereft?
2
No corridors open up
whistling sea breath.
A packet of Trident
Tropical Twist plucks me
from damp dissolution:
leaves me high and dry on
a train to Barcelona,
the darkhaired woman
next to me, peeling oranges,
our pungent air: Muy sabroso
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