her beside me

freezing on a sunday night
pubs were closed
we needed a place to go
it was only midnight
monday was a holiday
i could hardly feel my hands
i imagined she was next to me
and that he was dead
rich smart and handsome
holding on to the one i love
separating me
from joy and warmth and laughter
i could smell her perfume
mixed with gin and tobacco
a spicy fuel for my imagination
desire
desperate loneliness
*maybe we should call it a night*
he had the upper hand
she said nothing
i held my breath
hoping

10-11-24

*image: herbert list, 1932 – hamburg

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