Rainbows were dancing on Bold Street,
bumping rain outside shop door discos.
At the mexican bar, a wet bandido
coaxed damp smoke from a thin cig.
They measured rope here in the old days.
Top to bottom was always just enough.
Minutes away from the cavern quarter
old voices were anoraked or undercover.
I looked at all the lonely people.
Where did they all come from.
Tony Noon
