My tram trip is haunted by memories now.
Northcote is spoiled for me.
But I won’t close my eyes,
I’ll watch each storefront go by,
Staring steadfast with strength,
At all the places which remind me of you.
I’ll stare ‘til it doesn’t hurt to see them anymore.
‘Til feeling fades from history
And the streets lose their connection.
‘Til your loveliness to me,
Shadowed by your volatility,
Feels like less of an infliction.
But, oh, let me glide through it simply,
More smoothly on tracks than road
Because I still get chills on the bus through Kew
From the more awful man who preceded you.