back in forward

I stopped
on the stairs above the hostel

because I heard your voice -

not yours, of course, but

so much like it

and my ears, having been lacking

but for drones of engine buses

and crackings of skulls,
a phone call, and so on

drank (you) in

I stopped for longer than necessary

to stand on the stairs 

to absorb that pseudo-voice
and eavesdrop on imagining,
to make the strange familiar.