The Third Star to the Left

for J.M

You never were a careful shadow. When the sky was a cliche
you'd play chicken on the motorway in front of cars with tinted windows,
steal other people's taxis in the rain. You'd leave lights on and the taps running,

burn the toast, lose cards and keys and wake up on somebody else's couch
with a jack-hammer headache and no idea what happened,
how the hell you got there or whose t-shirt you were wearing.

After the obligatory fumbled foghorn coffee, slip out
through the back door into early morning, creep back up the stairs
and rub soap onto the soles of our shoes, and hope nobody noticed.

Anthony Adler

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