Upper Gardner Street sweats
as its telephone lines swoon –
one-way short cut –
Brighton
routes between parked lanes
run with slowed cars –
brick &
plaster facades face off
[both
sides] of strait so-hipster-rich
roads –
my view is obscured –
pub glass last rubbed an age
ago –
smears of crisps & beer
across thick glass panes –
my
Guinness slips inside my gut
‘nough to dull this afternoon