London eats my a-z’s
or foxes do
disappear off the summer bench
left it folded all night
checking out
todays locations and connections
street to street and painted halls/the chaos held tidy in my hand
must buy another
in
Fenchurch again
and
fold and lose
those
girl turned pages
of
gin nights and lost hoodies
of
early full buses of strangers
of
hangover marches
and
greasy spoons full with benches
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