The lungs of London breathe me in
and every biology course i took
is memorizing me as i float through your bloodstream
the exhale is eventual
and definitely all the same
as the night turns out and the streetlights turn you on
all photoelectric
the speed of light
and relativity fill my head
and i am making films
a montage

the city wakes up at about this time
and i flip her picture over
just to see what i should have worn
there's a candle in every window
and a pilot in every rocking chair
my shoes tap the blues
on the street reading the news
the crows above flutter and shake
when i step and take my time
here is your pigeon-toed
here is your penguin foot
and your bobsled run

slipping through your fingertips
like a glass of wine
pulling on your nerves
hanging from your veins
the city takes a drink
and falls asleep at the sink
dripping without pleasure
no,
not anymore
sinking and worthless
pale and barely alive