When I walk alone
When I walk alone
I carry new music,
The magic of Bluetooth
Keeps pace
Filling the space.
I remember how comforting it was
To walk, you and I
With genuine interest,
The wonder of discovery.
Nineteenth Century
Water stations
Built to resemble mediaeval castles.
Victorian bath houses
Alexandria Palace atop the hill
The first BBC television transmitter and all of that.
Back in those days
When your clothes were a good fit
Before you lost half of yourself
Conscious of them hanging loose
Pulling them tight
Holding on for dear life
When in the end
Everything slipped away,
Except for the memory
Of how amazing you looked
Wearing a red basque
Beneath your coat.
Playing footsie under the table
In a Bengali restaurant
In Stoke Newington
Watching the sunrise over London
From Parliament Hill
The smell of the all-night Bagel shop
On Ridley Road
Laughing with Robbie Coltrane
Before he was Hagrid
In many ways, he was bigger then
Than now
Gone but never will he be,
Not really.
The ruffle of sleepers
In shop doorways
The smell of sweat and desperation
The way of the English.
The rustle of rats
Running beneath empty stalls
Looking for scraps,
Where do they go when the market opens?
Less than thirty feet
Is what they say.
Stallholders shout and sway
Holding court
As if they were carpet baggers
Stealing the green of naive shoppers
Who wanted to believe
That cheap perfume really could be Chanel.
So many Kebab shops
Claiming to be the best in town
Lining both sides
Of Green Lanes.
It was a way to walk
But the nights were longer than
Or so it seemed.
Sitting on a bench
Overlooking the Grand Union
Smoking cigarettes
Giving them to strangers
Who were always short of a light.
Endless nights
Sunbright days
That never really were other than
In my imagination.
As the music moves within me
The rhythm of a walking blues
Keeps time with my beating heart
Each step takes me further away
The key to the highway
Brings me closer to home.
Picking up bread from the bakery
On the corner
Is only a short step away
From the beginning.