Hooded boys frisk

the sidewalk,

somersault gutters

or stand around swinging bats.
The paper seller

at Angel

listens to “Do the Locomotion”.
Tourists hog footpaths,

stray across Queensway.
They feel safe in less hurried postcodes.
Windows here

won't open.
Praed Street Shops

sell Union Jack jock straps.
Girls want to look like Kate Moss.

Saplings as mannequins.
Wreaths pile up outside

Edgeware Road tube.
In London, tequila is the new vodka,

and vodka is the new tequila.
Some churches only open to tourists.

I want to take up religion.