All along
this narrow road, the
zeitgeist does its rounds.
It nestles here, it struts out there
amongst the scents and sounds
of all that’s cool and tightly urban scruff. And
shades all multi-hued
on tiny girls and bouncy girls so
gangly, like young foals; emerging
into bright, white light,
those sleepy-headed moles.
Where cultures merge
like star-crossed lovers. East
meets West gone wild. And
into deep, dark denizens the
man at entrance smiles.
Bagels thick, their tongues of meat with
scents and juice on street. And
constant scores of hungry mouths
with drip, drip, drip
on feet.
Lazy beats, laconic funk are
supped with heads of beer. Whilst
fluffy little orbs of air
go ‘pop’
and guys just leer
at all the tiny girls. The
bouncy girls. The
giggling, earnest, fey.
But us?
We sit, and sup and watch. ‘Tis
just another day…
