He stepped out

He stepped out

To cool down,

Senseless words exchanged

Instantly regretted.

Walked boldly into the night,

Reluctantly continued

Feeling the chill,

Wishing to have worn a jumper

Perhaps a heavy coat

Maybe even a muffler,

Thick socks and hiking boots.

Hot breath condensing,

Fingers tingling,

Wishing not to have made the mistake

Of believing he would be called back.

Not even a goodbye,

The only sounds being

The fizz of a streetlight

The bark of a disturbed dog

The call of the wild

And a distant train.

The night sleeper to Scotland

Atomic waste on its way to a deep mine

In Yorkshire

On the edge of darkness.

The wind as sharply honed

As a 7 o’clock blade

Cutting him to the bone.

His nose

Too cold

His nerves,

Too brittle to jangle.

He is too old for shenanigans

Of any kind,

Better to go back home

Point made

Or not.