Trafalgar Square, July 2014 – Vincent Edward Manda

I sat in the shade
Of the big blue cock
Drinking boiling cherry cola
During the wane
Of summer’s hottest day;
My forearms tingling
From a heat-rash
That refused to be soothed.

To resist the urge
Of the itch
I watched a floating Master Yoda
Draw in droves of tourists in awe,
Daring them to learn his trick;
A magic which for me
Had been tainted when
I watched him too closely
As he closed shop for the day,
Thus learning the truth
Of his lack of force and flight.

But as I watched him,
Before knowing his lies,
He in turn watched
The old granddad DJ booth
Set up before the steps
Of the current home of pretty Sunflowers
Churn out the Macarena
To a bevy of summer’s voluptuous vixens
Doing the steps
At the behest
Of a topless man,
Aged and bloated
By years of boozing
And ashen skinned
From tobacco smoke.

Master Yoda disembarked
As the Macarena drowned out
A bagpipe rendition of
ACDC’s Thunderstruck
Soaring from a distance.

That single action
Disturbed my disillusionment
And robbed me of some of the little wonder

I pulled the finger at Nelson
Climbed down the stairs to the centre of London
And rode a metal coffin
Sinking lower than six feet
All the way home.


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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