Leif and I are on the train to New York in car 1399.
There's a guy with a quarter in his ear
and I've seen Leif only once in the past two months.
His hair is sticking up a little in the front. He's losing it just a bit.
When I get home tonight I'll miss him in Hampshire.
I'll miss his gla**es and the way he writes in purple pen,
the way his collar falls to the left.
Have you seen his ankles lately?
I know he's next to me.
I feel his sweater here,
but when I'm sleeping it's only green sheets and the hair down my legs.
I think I'll write you, Leif, when I'm near Tuesday,
sometime before you go and I'm back on the train.