Friday, 9 September 2016

King's Place

Kings place.
Oh my god I’m back
You finally did it
How can I be so curmudgeonly as to deny the seduction at play?
Oh the pristine vintage cobbles
The plate glass fronted warehouse arches
Framing slim silhouete of new student
Who sips coffee
Totally amazing tote bags
University of the Arts
Tram lines flow encased at floor level
As archival patina
Of an industrious past
It’s all good
How can I fail to see that this is betterer
Double plus gooderer
I visit an exhibition of Soviet childrens books
Encased in glass
Remember the smell of mildew?
Its freezing here comrade.
I grasp and gasp
Hoping for the oxygen of something actual
The fleeting memory of a real experience
An actual event.
There is a hand printed lino cut cover
For A Russian book of Walt Whitman’s O Pioneer.
Is this it?
The moment that evaded the death grip
The strangulation by equivalence?
Asphixiation by reproductive thingness.
I think it is
And a part of me celebrates inside
Then I walk back onto the street
where victory parades are in full  flow
This of course entails
Perfectly arch  vintage window displays
Litter free cobbles
Perfectly assembled nutrious marginally overpriced fast food
And lots of trolleys pulled over cobbles
23 accidents on the escalators this year citizen
80 percent due to luggage
4 percent due to running
I break into a sprint
Laughing softly
Or perhaps I am gently sobbing
My chest heaves but at least
I am wearing appropriate foot wear (ten percent)