In that underworld you ambled off to
On your own, you must have drunk or eaten
Something prohibited so that your memory
Of this life faded. But where could that place
Have been? And what was the fruit? If we knew,
We'd go there with you, or for you, and put it back:
Whatever it was you ate or drank or brought away.
I dreamt I came upon you in the early hours
In your pyjamas, scoring a sheet of paper
Over and over with a highlighter pen.
'This pen's gone dry,' you said. 'I'm trying my best
To make it orange up this paragraph.'
