o, oxford street!

The boy with the flashing shoes hand in hand with his mum is beating us and our engine and I hate myself for thinking that dress in the window of Selfridges dress with the price tag like a stabwound hate that I think it is pretty like shipwreck salvage its chiffon fronds like seal fluff caught here and there ragged on spikes male models do fuck all primping excepted the girls are arse out hypothetical tit region out belly invisible give me fierce nymphet cockroach the boys are plonked behind in shades and told to look male or unmale the biggest HMV in Europe belches by the biggest HMV in Europe in which the game is to try and find the album you love that they don't have FCUK is 'doing' punk much like a cellmate 'does' a cellmate after lights out the boy with the flashing shoes has lagged but is catching us up as we vrrrum at a red light maybe light calls to light some girl running in heels every step stabs the balls of my feet we pretend not to stare at our neighbour double decker and its inmates we move like chocolate melting over a low low heat his shoes like trod on fairies sparking blue sparking their last that dress isn't so pretty