Fissure

Walking past the crisp-shop on MB

Young bloke serving, framed in the door, looked up

It caught my breath

Absolute spit of David

I thought he briefly smiled

I probably stared, then looked away, embarrassed

Strange, after 25 years, it can still do that

Would he even know me now?

Thinning hair, beard, grey?

In the morning, just to be sure, I looked in again

Young bloke was serving still

But David had gone