Dalston Night Song

And so it's midnight
outside the Tesco Express
on the Kingsland Road

A man kicking at the wind
the rain
red lights from passing cars

And you have your hand in mine beneath an
old umbrella -

No, let's try not to think about the morning darling

For now
All that matters is
huddling from the rain and that
I've your bag and a bottle of wine

And that in half an hour we will be home

Bushwick Tales (1)

i wake up at 5.30am, from a drunk, hispanic laughter in front of my window, a cool breeze flows through my open window, on the doorstep of my house, two men in black baseball hats, three-quarter length cargo jeans, bid farewell to a friend on his way to prison today, the conversation is occasionally interrupted by repeated phone calls, where are you man? or the blase answer, in a light accent, changing to spanish at times, they're not saying much, mostly how loco and cool it is, cracking jokes about court day, i look up the weather forecast, it is going to be a cool summer day today, a slight chance of rain