LDN

London, you left me undone,
pulled me apart,
concrete teeth on tarmac tongue;
you chewed me up and left me dripping,

gripping my keys in my pocketed fist,
tripping over my own feet into a stranger’s meal deal.
This is the real deal.
Oh yes, I’ve made it.
I’ve made payments for these pavements,
you’ve got my desperation on direct debit.

Please mind the gap between your pain and the landlord.

Tell me, what else can I lay at your feet?
So I can be urban and offbeat,
for this city to unfold like a newspaper blowing through the street.

I’d do anything for you to breathe me out like an exhaust pipe,
mottle me with sunlight the way you make the river glow,
read me like roadsigns until I’m high-rising,
sky-lining,
cloud-climbing.

Taking this city by storm
is as thankless as an unpaid internship,
but mark my words, London, you’ve not seen the last of me yet.

Though you’re passive aggressive,
you’re massively messy
and the stress is excessive
I crave your coffee stained skin and your cigarette breath
on the nape of my neck.

Wrung out from a whole day underground,
I kiss the view from my window goodnight,
catcalls slicked into my hair like starlight.

Come a little closer, heartbreaker,
whisper your city secrets in my ear
and I’ll scatter them in a flutter of pigeon wings,
while I wait for the night bus.