Londoners

We huddled on street corners
Coughing like hags
Feet suffocating in great big leathers
Rooted in muck and slime
The smoke from our cigarette butts
Escaping into the already scented air
And finding freedom amongst its friends
The unmistakable aroma of urine and uncleanliness.
Where once our skin had known the softness of youth
Now lay chunks of flesh
Taut and fibrous
Stretching like used twine
As it built a wall against wind and cold
Our noses twitched;
Trembling lips went dry; unsmiling
We looked into each other’s eyes where pain lay
Silent and cold;
Someone belched
And released a load of last night’s merriment
Last evening we had known bliss in pubs
And in the morning light;
Souls loitering in weary bodies
We held each other close
And looked to the approaching bus
Which we scrambled into
Our jeans scrubbing in the metal railings
Till we found solace in the upper deck
Where herds of cattle might have passed on sand.
We peered through the dust for seats
And there stretched our legs and laughed
For we knew not how death haunted us
Such was the gift of civilisation!