Weak with the dawn,
With a thin grey light seeping in
Just below your absence and just below
Everything your absence can now reveal,

Of sunlight deflected through this car’s
Grease-stained windscreen as I,
About to drive you home,
Then see you look at your watch,

Which no longer works,
But this doesn’t stop you from telling me
Exactly the date and the time, as you climb
From the car and walk away across

This supermarket’s car-park,
But your smell still lingering,
Precluding thought until I now find,
On the seat where you’d just sat,

One hair, place it carefully against my tongue,
Weak with the dawn, with waiting,
With another lie now told
To someone who looks just like you.