I say the word aloud, speak it into my pillow every night; goodbye. And darling, I wish you away. I wish to unknow you, but the images, ages old, they stay; hand in hand we danced Quayside ‘neath the sunny blue, my hair blowing whirly-twirly in the brusque breeze… flickering flip-book of movie stills. I say the word aloud–goodbye–but in my mind’s eye, the Tyne glitters, and you smile, devilish, delicious. I speak the word into my pillow. And I don’t mean it.