I got the rain not in purple
as the time had sweetly gone away
and all purple rock and roll dreams were dead.
The woman in the way out of the Notting tube
was not the celluloid legendary Poppings
neither the Queen coming from the Portobelo Market.
All Regent Christmas lights were already on,
and Oxford sidewalks were plenty of compulsive buyers.
I got two Guiness to refresh my soul
and a Tate Modern four split musical movie
gave to David Hockney portraits a different autumn air.
The Bond Street, new and old,
showed me the limit for fashion and desire
with a discrete giant multi colored screen
and a perfect script completed by a lonely red Ferrari.
The future wall also there
the City sky from the ground
with the Loyds Tower and the Foster cristal bullet at my back.
The cabs,
both the blacks and the post modern graphic ones
were as lost as me.
