John Burnside - Blues

It’s moments like this
when the barman goes through the back
and leaves me alone

a radio whispering
somewhere amongst the glasses
- I’m through with love -

the way the traffic slows
to nothing
how all of a sudden
at three in the afternoon

the evening’s already begun
a nascent
dimming.

By ten I’ll be walking away
on Union Street
or crossing Commercial Road
in a gust of rain

and everyone who passes
will be you
or almost you
before it’s someone else.

John Burnside

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/blues-11/