A catalogue of ill gotten forgoteries   Knocking at your door at nine   Tumbling down like sand castles   Your eiderdown   Slipping off your skin and mine      But something strikes   At my window one night   I awake imagining you   Standing out on the beach   With a pocket torch and a lock of hair   And not knowing what to do      There are plenty of boys in the sea   But none of them love you like me      We’ll never argue, we’ll never sigh   If I never see you   We can’t say goodbye      The streets all muscle in with hunger   For the nights I should’ve slept with you   You didn’t answer the phone   I drove across town through dusk   Cathedrals, museum and school      But by the time I arrived   Your room looked like you’d gone away   And were sure never to return   A pile of magazines   My letters under coffee cups   Unanswered and unconcerned