A Year's Worth Of Postcards From London
J.E.A. Wallace
King’s Cross, The 20th of March
I still get a little excited
When a train pulls out the station
And we enter a beautiful limbo
Between departure and arrival
I still look for the colourful litter
Adorning the tangled embankments
Doing its best, just like the rest
Of London to emerge
And shine beneath a springtime
Whose chilly cheerfulness
Is best observed from a train window
Between departure and arrival
Greenwich, The 21st of June
We could tie the sun to a stick
By the side of this empty road
Put our backs against the trees
To watch the green grass grow
And that dirty forgotten bottle
By the side of this empty road
I think is missing its ship
We should wait for it to show
Before we go anywhere…
Chiswick, The 22nd of September
When summer’s fallen asleep in the sky
And just lies there…
These giant albino mammoths
(Very slowly) crash the party
Dragging winter behind them
Like a sunburnt dehydrated cowboy
Underneath
Leaves run around on the pavement
Like cats at an old lady millionaire’s house
And (finally)
The colours in this dirty old town look right
At night
The rain quietens the car alarms
And turns windows into percussion
Music to the ears
Of all the sunburnt dehydrated cowboys
Balham, The 21st of December
Outside
Icing sugar snow is falling
On a town that needs a little sweetening
The final touch
From the grey clouds’ ancient fingers
The final touch?
This home of exhaust and invisible men?
I was under the impression there was further to go…
And then I realise
Throw a snowball in this town
And you’ll hit your destiny.
About the Author
J.E.A. Wallace is a poet whose work has been published in the U.S. and the U.K., including The Minetta Review, The Write Place At The Write Time, and Lowestoft Chronicle. He used to be a Londoner but now lives in a tiny studio apartment in New York with his wife and the occasional mouse.