I found myself
On the streets
Of Camden Town
Watching
40 different women
I was with them
Every one
In Gothic coal-lined eyes
In unfamiliar platform shoes
Offering up a transcendent perspective
While tripping up their ankles
On raised crumbles
Of ancient sidewalk blocks
They wear short skirts
Of cheap denim
Sewn with a half-stitch
Because youth
Cares not for quality
That goes with style
Which calls them back
To Camden Town
Every time
A boyfriend or two
Tears the skirt from you
Camden has something new
Only 3 pounds Sterling
If you know the system
Of bartering
And you do it
To satisfy the yearning
For something more
Than 3 shillings of love
He asks you back
To Camden town
Maybe get
That purple corset
Hanging in the window
The one with black lace
Camden’s not a trashy place
Just a vile stink that settles
Neath ultra-glitter
Sticky perfume
And sparkley eye goo
To make his prick
Pick you apart
When your heart
No longer sits
In Camden town
Buildings built to last
Through centuries of lust
Await their fate
As display cases
Servicing familiar faces
That will still
Come
Here
Walking
When I’ll no longer be around
Watching
Nice! The picture at the beginning really catches my attention and sets the tone. There is a certain timelessness to this that’s intriguing.
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Thanks, Anna! I took that picture in London when I visited 2 summers ago. It was a phone booth covered in lewd adverts in the middle of an otherwise normal neighborhood. Later, I took the underground to a place called Camden Town, where the lewd seeped out of the phone booth and leaked all over the place. It intrigued me, and got me to thinking of all the individuals who lived/frequented there… and then I wondered “How did this place wind up like this? Or was it always a place for such things?” Gosh, would I LOVE the ability to peer into the past!
L, Lori
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