Do you need so many pictures of Stonehenge?
A picture from every different angle?
And just as many pictures of Big Ben?
You want to keep them, but you’re a guest here,
Call your mom and boyfriend from a red telephone booth
that smells like piss.
You put on a black clubbing dress—does it have to be so short?
And chunky black heels, and you ride the Tube.
You are intoxicated by the sights and sounds and pints of cider.