Can't quite

Can’t quite

And you can’t quite wash the smell of nicotine off your fingers
and a friend comes out to you in the rush hour tube
and everyone at work is doing lines off the bar
and the articles on gay organ donation you want to write -
and your face on the cover of ID
and you cant quite answer your mobile
and the boy walks past and the girl
who swallowed the scissors
wont stop joking about rape –
and the contempt you have for angry people
and the Oxfam window your elbow craves to crack
and the calm period
where you wash your fingers
chuff your chin
and smoke another roll up.