Of Dean, Frith and Greek

Friday night alive with the metronome.

Payday peacocks say farewell to the week.

Showing our colours on Old Compton Street.

Pecking the streets of Dean, Frith and Greek.

Pubs we hop in as if penguins.

Amphetamines and Guinness.

The black on white, the white on black,

in praise of Colin MacInnes. 

Dancing to music we can’t comprehend,

from New York to Mornington Crescent.

Shop girls spinning in Penny Loafers,

doormen barring the pheasants.

And there’s a pop star swanning in Bar Italia.

A Maltese loan shark cutting a cheek.

As we flutter and chirp into daylight’s gauze,

the young sparrows of Dean, Frith and Greek.