The road goes over the horizon.
The mirrored wall in the hotel foyer
reflected the room;
here we once stayed,
I couldn’t know this was to be the last time.
I knew where we might find a pub,
outside, broken glass,
movement at the bar,
up-turned chairs in the garden.
The door opened,
she’s fallen pregnant again,
comes across the floor.
“Are you getting one in for my friend?
She really fancies you, she likes her men.”