I can hear the announcements from the train station
from across the crumbling car park we live by.
The 10:58 to Manchester Airport will be departing
From platform 6, platform 6 for the 10:58
To Manchester Airport
An earlier train leaving without me, newspapers
Strewn over passenger seats
The metro facedown by their feet
Her voice slides like plum tomatoes
From a tin, to the pan of the platforms.
I wake, and distil myself into my white shirt
Sleek as latte foaming over cups
The day I split hot coffee on a customer
Its overfull glass tilting from the tray
And her rush to the bathrooms
My apologetic cup of ice sitting
On the side, unrustled.