I don’t know what it means to be in the premiership

But I like the patter of the man selling flags and whistles,
and the way the window wobbles when the happiness gets too crowded.

I don’t know what it means to be in the premiership,
but these people make me wish I did,

a small Asian girl in a green t shirt, and yellow shorts stands on a fuse box
willow bends to ask the man how much.

The man wears gold links on his loafers, he has stashed a sports bag under the benches, he looks dejected when people pass.

A fat woman with tattoos quavers on a bicycle, moving like an aphid
through traffic, ‘flags for the premiership, badges, fake flowers,’ -

today is a city of sunflowers, stalks, a city of balcony speeches,
belonging songs and god houses.