"This melancholy London - I sometimes imagine that the souls of the lost are compelled to walk through its streets perpetually. One feels them passing like a whiff of air. - W. B. Yeats

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Mahler No. 5

The homeless kid in front of the pub

Had two rotting front teeth

And worn down trainers- converse all-stars.

There was an Aussie couple at the bar,

In their forties, drinking white wine.

We talked about vegemite, but I still don’t get it.

This city is lonely tonight—

The air so cold it’s sharp

In warm, wet nostrils.

This city is hopeless tonight—

And I’ll curl up and listen

To Mahler No. 5,

And fall asleep and dream

Dark dreams again.

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