I want neon \  I want chrome  

I want car headlights, streetlights, puddles

I want loud music, I want it  louder//

I want chrome //      I want fluorescent pink         // I want inner city foxes and 3am

There’s a riot in my ribcage matches my feet pounding pavement

This city is mine.

 I want anarchy         I want a signal           

I want last orders

I am the thing you never asked for but ended up with anyway

I am looking fine in this dress // I am unnecessary

I am looking for a fight; I am throwing out these heels

I am howling at the sea \ I am wading in, nude

I am the wood-chip roof / I am the smell of booze

I am the striped waltzers and the spotted teacups.

I am 24-hr rolling news / /  I am double yellows

I am driftwood                  I am shingle beaches that cut your feet

And I will not let you forget easily.

("Forward Slash..." is due to appear in the next issue of Rising, for you London folks.)