my second
and third boyfriends
were cafe goers. Romance 
was flicking rolled up rizzlas
at each other , counting up the 
pennies for another plate of 
beans and showing me 
their crumpled up 
poetry books 


London was
much safer than
Brighton. In those 
days you could walk 
across in the small hours
sleep in the station and 
have tea with the 
buskers 


grubby fingers, laughing 
at our eccentric friends
I don't remember it 
all now