Pangaea Breaking

Last train to London
running a little late
standing on the platform
last minute of our last date,
You say this isn’t working
and I know that is true
but I will always have
a special spot for you,

Piccadilly Circus
met one crowded night
nearly hypnotized
bright pulsating light,
You were in a mini skirt
I was in a dream
drank too much alcohol
but made a good team,

Spent that night together
never really went to bed
stumbled around London
our bodies and our head,
Sometime the next morning
exhausted to the bone
from Victoria Station
the train to your home,

The flat you were renting
an hour out of town
where we went to bed
let our guards down,
Told each other stories
told each other lies
each of us thinking
we had won some prize,

I commuted on that train
your place once a week
Saturday to Sunday
your bed is made of teak,
Your husband is a sailor
due to be home soon
my wife in San Francisco
or the backside of the moon,

So, now on this platform
conductor waves his arm
in that damn mini skirt
oozing female charm,
We kiss hard then separate
like Pangaea breaking apart
to drift like the continents
further and further apart,