Soho

Soho. Tuesday. Autumn. 7pm.
Girls in squeaky knee-high leather boots,
Yet too-warm coats slung casually over fragile arms.
The last of the sunlight lowers behind Autumn’s curtain.
King prawns. Phad Thai noodles, eaten quickly.
Alone,By an open window.
Crisp Pinot Grigio in a bowl-shaped glass.
Tongue pulsating with chilli sauce.
Bench seating runs into fellow lone diner:
Male. 20s. Dark hair (Toni & Guy). Duck curry. Thai Calamari.
Craving newness and a way through this cavernous life, this maze of a city.
Wherever I go, you’re there. You’re eating noodles with bamboo chopsticks.
Reaching into Louis Vuitton leather for change.