Billy's Rain

Yesterday I looked for traces of us
in Billy's Rain.
I stood in the mirror

blanked by the reflection,
by the stain of red lips
and thought of you:

There's a wine bottle, empty
on an empty bar,
your marlbro burning in the ashtray

and the rise and curl of smoke
in the half light, where you stood
and disappeared

bending to turn the music down,
a half full glass of red in your hand-
and what was that thing T.S.Eliot said

about love, and the here and now?