And Colin Firth was in love with you
Only he was dying, and he was too uptight
To declare his passion until it was time
For him to be carried to his deathbed.
You told me afterwards, though,
As we walked from a fairground to a locker room
Where we were going to put our things
(We were younger, student age I think)
That you had fallen in love with a girl,
And you would not tell me her name.
It was clear to me that your lover had made you unhappy.
I for my part did very little, only waited impatiently
For you to choose a locker in which to put your things
So that I might put my things in the locker next to yours.
