I remember.

I remember.
A cold, busy Queen Street station
Up past the big and small H&M
And bongo drums
Round to the BBQ sauce and chips
And tequila
To the bus stop where we clasped our hands together against the frost.
The bus turned and turned until the tenaments arrived
and we piggybacked over the truck tyre
and fell into bed where people could hear us.
I'm haunted by the angel of my nightmares.
I miss you.