Leicester Square

Having missed my chance to see the new ballet
because the magic had left the Hole In The Wall,
I wandered through still fuming traffic
under empty winter trees
full of starlings, sleeping.

I queued for "Highlander",
bumped by the lovers behind
consumed by each other.
An old American man passed through
with many young people dressed for the night:
couples, pairs, trios,
but no singles, like me.

A placard comes
saying protein causes lust
so eat less eggs, cheese, beef.
Underneath,
the voice of a satired vicar
speaks from an unloved man
dressed in stagnation.

A drunk frightened him away
with a comment everyone else heard
and enjoyed.

I came out of the cinema into a film,
hearing my footsteps echo around the auditorium,
avoiding the extras walking slowly around me,
seeing the special effects
of the blue wail
of the flashing siren
edging past.

Read more poems, go home, return to These Words, They Were Not Said, move on to Cigarette Politic, hear some poetry I've set to music, or send some feedback.

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