Londemic

Jesus wept when he got to the West End,
Reminded, theatre’s not dead, just expensive.

I know, I know. I left. It was me, not you.

But this brief reunion, back together after all this time, a dirty weekend between stinking surges, and – I’m bitter. Who isn’t?

I’ve setup camp between Dean and Greek Streets, the part of you that remains mystifying no matter how long I’m in your enthral. At Bar Italia, forever faithful, I’m sipping at sun up. The coffee pod pretender in the AirBnBlasé where I’ve hung my hopes spit out a mean, weak espresso, and I worried we were off to a shaky start. But my mind’s put to racing rest when a real waitress, delivers a real cup of caffeine, in a real side-walk cafe. Yes, I thought, let’s get real.

Mourning rituals made possible by unbroken day-break Labourers, their elbow greasing, easing it for the rest of us. Window cleaning, sweeping, scrubbing, watering your dirty streets to keep rubbish from blooming into grey marigolds of muck. These Guardians of Life-As-We-Want-It take no notice of me, a middle-aged white girl from America’s blasphemous Bible Belt. Scrubbed sinfully straight, slightly overweight, I’m a mug shot for the average ho-hum.

But fatales in fast fashion, boys in mascara, a breathless bulldog dragging pot-belly bikers through Chinatown count me among their ranks for the weekend. Soho’s dirty, flirty, art-farting, cross dressing, smart-mouthing, hi/bi/WiFied molls and mobsters singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow under their deadly breath remind me that this rat race is resilient – despite the PM’s best efforts to exterminate the lot of us.

I order a second Americano from a latte-coloured lady and say a prayer.
Smile behind your masks, weird-Os of W1
Let your eyes do the talking
Let your feet do the walking
Into a vaccine centre,
Twice.
Amen.

Oh Smoke, I was reborn in your midst, circa 2001.
I’m not British, not English,
Enough hanky panky I admit I’m Yankee-ish.
But here or far, once in awhile,
I’m gratefully, state-lessly,
Londonish.

–by Anmarie Bowler

First appeared in the Handbill (Brevity hardcopy) September 2021