Little Rage

Dear London,

There’s a part of me that exists only for you. That quick easy rage that would shock those that know me, it only happens when on my own with you. Rising in me before I realise then at top of the voice

‘Can You Let People Off The First. Please’

Pseudo politeness yelled as loud as you like, mark me out as a proper Londoner. A loud tut, muttered ‘jesus’, shake of the head at the bovine masses unblinking & staring.

The rage calms down, that brief flash. And I smile. Laugh to myself. I do enjoys those moments that you provoke in me.

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