Poetry: Advent
My not-quite pilgrimage: the train, the tube cutting the city southeast to northwest – a husband or a chaperone, scared to send me out alone because I was still young. I might have fun without him. I might fall for a girl my own age (she was tall, looked like Kate Winslet and invited me to her flat to drink and chat), run away with her, study something useful at university, write more terrible stories. Instead there I sat with men ten, twenty years ahead of me, reading sad he