You face off to a lip stick faced man head on
stuck popsicicles pining at the hoots
of the Match making men
arranging flowers footsteps
lost in the industrial snow
Leopold out late at night
aggregate love music radio
the longest night of follys chasm
in the sightseers charmed minds
340 plate fumes pour
across polished floor.
Cans of wasted youths roll
across platforms well heeled
posters of a getaway you’d choose
lose change rolls away wake up call
you’ve been here before
and back again lap two
beat an egg and remember.
Phew it could been you
and the night of colouring crayons
and a poppy etched on your head.