dear london
I will never be 18 and sobbing on the phone to my mother because the city is not what I’d imagined.
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On infinite tenderness
Time deserts the scene – it could be a thousand and one years ‘fore I awake
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What do you do?
‘All of it’, I think. Sure enough, I do all of it. I breathe and perspire, laugh into a
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handsfree
The neighbours don’t have dogs- they have teenagers. I’ve never feared for the…
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Cowboy problems 