By me

By me

We pack a bag get on a train and eat the sandwich.
The flick book style countryside suits all the kissing.
We get off in Oxford and in a café with a balustrade make a list,
we will not think of our laptops, we will not act ugly, we will not say sorry to people who get in our way.

The charity shop aunt awns us in,
we treasure the feeling, buy a minature metal donkey, a brooch with a woman combing her fringe, a snoopy pencil case and a cushion which reads
‘if you’ve got nothing nice to say, come sit by me’.
Purchases appropriate for our nostalgic nineties age.

At twelve we drink dirty martinis in a bar which smells of cleaning fluid,
the waiter is called David, the flick book style of his conversation suits the city,
the way we eat sandwiches makes an interesting behavioural study
for the woman sitting opposite,
elbow knocking her pencil case, repeat pulling at her fringe.