Juxon Street Poem by Richard George

As oil wells roared 'Kuwait! '
I elbowed through Oxford's
en passant logomachy
to my friend in Jericho.
His American housemate
cowered behind the letterbox,
whimpering her mind was blown.
I retreated.

Josh stirred explanation
into a warm mug of apology.
'The weed... the fear...
you were wearing your black jacket -
you know, the Marks & Spencer one -
and you looked angry.
Demonic vibes, or something'.

Sulphur in a struck match,
a flicker of the infernal.