Stealing Daffodils at UEA

Anywhere else but here, between the static Nazi grey
blocks: Norfolk & Suffolk, they would not be lit up,
not exotic, like ornaments.

Between the two terraces of sleeping freshers,
actually, probably not. The downing, smoking,
fucking freshers. Which I wasn’t.

There like a hormonal shock, a drop of acid,
they were gyrating and nodding their heads
as if to say: I’m here. Initiate me.

Which we did. A drive by, scooping handfuls
and shoving them, headfirst into the black
Tesco’s bags swinging from our handlebars.

We laughed on Monday when we saw them,
tight bunches, wrapped in rubber bands, bundled
in the boot of a car by Norwich market.

Not even open yet, small bullied things,
unlike the illegal geishas we had showing off
in our front window, wizened, hard.