At the shops

I think I just saw you

at the shops.

You were leaving,

I was just paying up.

An awkward confrontation.

Not with you,

But with a self

I think I’ve left behind.

Not good or bad,

Just incongruous.

An uncollapsible distance,

That suddenly bleeds

Across the shoddy divide.

The self haunting,

With whispers of things

I used to say.

And then you were gone,

Along with the feeling,

That only comes back

On wet spring days,

Or an old friend’s face.