Look through March rain veils

into sunscapes and green, green, woodland.

Take the pinch of reality and throw it behind you.

Do not let the other Megabus passengers see.

Swallow a Fisherman’s Friend and travel.

Tannoys tinkle and it is three tomorrows

away and soaked in eucalyptus and tanging almost-pain.

Shudders turn to slipping lullabies

and windows open portal-wide

and now, breathe,

count to three … one … two …

and it is the turn for your eyes.

You have arrived.

Another man, dressed in imaginary nights

and dancing is waiting.

Hand him your lover’s last words on his tongue

and with your other, take a strand of his fairy hair.

Hold him.

Do not let the world tug you back.

Focus.

Let him reach into his pocket and untuck a compact mirror

coated in the colour of heartache.

Open it.

Take back your smile.

Buy now.

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