And all because

a woman boarded the train

at Warrington

who looked as if she could,

just could, be you,

a you surcharged

with all the intervening years,

hair clawed strictly back

the way we knew you always would.

And almost certainly it was

the fact the next stop down the line

was Widnes,

the glum sulphuric town

where you were born,

that put me in the way of it,

recalling you, I mean.

And yet how much

came back?

Nothing wanted to couple with

your Christian name.

Travelling up and down

the alphabet, I hoped

that I would come upon

the maiden name you kept

marrying the man

we both deceived. And yes

later I remembered it,

the same day's godforsaken night

flopped in front of telly

sinking scotch. And yes

you were severely beautiful

like the woman opposite

flicking through her pile of notes,

words for a crowded conference perhaps,

case histories,

detailed mitigations,

narratives of lives

gone wrong.