From today I remember a squashed sandwich
Patterned by treading tyres and hunched
away from the elegant debris of a conker sleeping alongside
its side reflecting its ugliness with varnished
that has been plumped out, disregarded; now road cold.
It is remembered so I can forget the bills and remembering
and focus hard
looking down at the floor holding
my own hard, fake diamond, my own
disappointment in the chill of darkening days, our own hard to swallow
summer stays limp
squashed and ugly, receding into an unpleasant past.