HEY HEY MOMMA, SAID THE WAY YOU MOVE:

Walking, shopping, hunting, dodging rain & cold from Brick Lane
to Mayfair. Good times swerving moods, trying to keep everyone
happy under an electric sky of cross-cross lights. Heavy clouds
of seasonal perfumes guide us along back streets, following routes
we used to walk twenty years ago. Starwars at the Curzon, big screen
luxury. Lay back, sink into velvet pillows drift off & escape the
world & all it’s wonders knocking at the door. Black cab noodles
after the proper eating time. This is uptown living, making it up
as we go. The trains don’t run on time if they run at all,
terminating long before our stop. The taxi driver asks us where
we’ve been,

“I hate London!”, announces, somewhat heartless for the time of
year. Jams his smelly car into gear & plays Led Zeppelins greatest
hits all the way home.

(K)