Victoria Lines

Poem VIII: Victoria Lines

She told me to text at Stockwell.
I was early anyway,
listening to her music
I didn’t like, but
she made me smile
yesterday.

I still look at the boards
on the Victoria line.
I look down to the bottom:
oh Brixton and her bottom.
She made me smile
yesterday.

I hold my book, her present.
Could I throw it away,
or return it with a note,
stain it with a tear?
But I couldn’t bear to lose it.
She made me smile
yesterday.

When I go past Vauxhall,
I still think: should I text?
And then I smile, knowing
it’s her turn.
Yes, today.