Fascination Street Poem by J.A. Hartley

twenty-third of july, nineteen eighty-nine
goth lovers trail smoke under a dark, broken sky
messed hair sprung, Docs crushing leaves
night descends on their train as it forms gradually
misty summer night, blue tartan seats
a flagon of vodka, a headphone apiece
what will robert wear? what will simon play?
boozy woozy rocking teenage melancholy
song after song, the tension builds on bass
ashtead, epsom, cheam - orchestral thunder breaks -
birdsong on still empty stations, 'neath chiming dying sky
towards the big smoke inspecting my dark window smile
eyeliner, black nails and broken woollen jersey -
never quite managed the words to explain to you -
clapham junction, the dark water and london once again -
into the underground, a joint outside - to enter hand in hand.