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The Big Smoke

We took a flat in central Hammersmith –
students both, but working several nights
at some hotel – and wooed the modern myth
of being where it’s at. We scorned the sights
we never saw. The day you said you’d scored,
I thought you meant a girl, not Mary Jane,
yet I too fell under her spell. We bored
of books and in our loneliness and pain
mistook the kindness of a nurse that smiled
for promises of love, too blind to see
the ‘girl’ you’d found was no more than a child
that stroked the ego till it proved to be
collapsible – a folding carry-cot
she jubilantly folded, then forgot.