we met Simon at the hookah bar?
Brick Lane wound like a haze
through to Hackney -
bottles of beer out back,
cool air and the dangling
Distant sound of voices
floating into cricket skies
Waking up to your glare,
to dry smooth skin,
London was a new fruit
I bit into with relish
reduced to a memory
now of the sweet taste
of Dr. Strangelove at 5 A.M.
and the dull ache of wanting it to end
