route 68 walworth road

the mind itself is a rowdy top deck
so I have no problem dipping into Walcott
despite the ruckus down back
kids giggling build up scream crescendo
causing mum to clutch flip phone to mountainous bosom
                                                                 shut up ya noise
our eyes will us outside
to pluck ripeness from fruit and veg vistas
to be by the small booth
                                                                 international phone cards,
                                                                 watch straps
next to the crouching seller, to know
                                                                 eek a nomics
what's busting from his speakers
causing the odd rocking jaw clenching
rolling on, past the 24 hour bagel shop
                                                                 so much time so few bagels
past the flapping banner of
                                                                 the Lord is my accountant,
                                                                 I shall not declare
past the curiously named MIXED BLESSINGS BAKERY
                                                                 strong hands don’t do irony
irish bars steadfast as failure
dark doors swallowing the bookies' flotsam
                                                                 whack fol de daddy-o
past the last few occupied flats of the Heygate
                                                                 we're improving your area
                                                                 we need you to leave
my eyes return to terza rima
                                                                 sea almonds . . .
                                                                 bougainvillea . . .
the littlest one screams again
and then the slap

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