"Picasso, darling"

I saw you sober once

and you were not

             less

or more

lonely by the roundel

talking to air

frustrated gasps

of breath

a point made

with the hand

your shoes

half off your feet

I asked you 

who your favourite poet was

you said

"Picasso, darling"

and danced along the platform

adjusting the edge

of your voice 

making the vowels 

sound thinner

I am a wall

a pivot 

line

I am a dropped

kerb

I've seen you fall

down the station steps

and you bled

in a way we all do

                          quietly

I've seen you bare your arse 

in the bus station on Sundays

I've watched you sleep

in that thick woollen coat

I saw you sober once

and you were not

            less

or more