Haven't the foggiest, faintest idea / Half of the stillness of a soap opera actor / I just sorta wish, sorta wish, sorta wish that you wished you were here / That's not how it appears / I've never featured in your scenes, never will / I said your name in a prayer / A prayer I said to the air last year / How I would live as a prisoner / It's all total bullshit, Tiffany interiors / Ruched red velvet security cameras // It's the quiet times that really do me in / Disastrous indecision, walking in the shadow of a drawing pin / in a raincoat, on a Monday etc. / Mocking all of my Hockney ephemera / Rare plagiarisms, superimpositions of Karen and Cohen / So you can close your eyes and think of him / and I can lie back and think of Ekland / and we needn't make a sound, we're the talk of the town / Just lay your hands down on my skin // O behind us the screaming of train / O behind us the drowning of dream / O behind us the tail and the spin / and that sound in the wing / Babe, it's a small violin / See I've been dreaming in horrific collodion / Grand delusions only fit for Napoleon // Once upon an acid glance I might have reeled you in / When Virginia Reel was the dance, and you were shy and I, smitten / I could've reached into my pocket, rummaged for a promise / Said something ironic in a voice like Dylan Thomas / And you would have let him down / But morning is broken