Meet me at the verge, the place where
Caledonian Road meets the river and the
Reckless thugs of Camden dare not travel,
Lest they find themselves back home, alone once more.
Meet me at midnight, before the
Gates break loose and spill the stragglers to the street,
And just after the last bus leaves the station,
And the tube stops, silent, dead.
Meet me for reasons unknown, for
Sake of impulse, of joy, of freedom,
To cast away what memory you might have
Of days less full and rich as this.
Meet me dressed in black and grey,
All the better for the night to swallow you whole,
Take you within, deep, as a lover to another,
Or a shipwreck lost within the sea.
Meet me with apathy and disdain,
With carefree abandon and slight
Mistrust, for you are more wary than I
And have seen darker evenings.
Meet me then and take my hand,
Through woollen gloves and shivering, and
Stare at me through condensed breath, as we
Share a smile and walk lightly away.