A concrete tomb smothered in glass
Come buy your wares here
Come push through the vultures for a bargain
Push through the surge of angst and plastic gold
Strangers ram into you spilling coffee on your shoulder
They are shopping here but there’s a rush
A rush to what?
I never knew, because here bargains are few
Screams of children and laughter and loud voices echo through the sarcophagus
Piercing your ear drums as you pass
Fresh dough scenting the air with expensive perfume
Choking on the gilded air
Poor people watch and stare
Buy lollipops from Marks and Spencer’s just to get the bag
So people back on the estate think, they aren’t so poor – the snobs
That’s what it’s like in old Brent Cross
tardycreative.com 