London tired

London town I am done.
Bruised and beaten down like a dusty old cur
The shrine by a lamp.
Please install the artificial voice box for
The parrot.
I am spitting by the train-folk, whimpering like their sound systems
Tearing at headphones.
I’m drudging through the London skyscape sap sucking
Through their
I’m a slow-moving man out to find more time,
Quiet like the sound systems, Euston 5 a.m.
Now London’s calling back to me
She sits me down for a remedy
The church bells, sirens, buskers by pylons, the gulls and the evergreen,
Metropolis no more, London town I am new,
out within a minute, done without a note