After Gotham

End credits play
and Seal sings a love song,
which has nothing to do with Batman,
as we emerge from popcorn perfumed dark
into the lairy light of London.

After Gotham,
even these grim streets seem bright
and hoodies are not hi-tech lunatics
enhanced by bio-chemical imbalance.

There is something quite un-British
about the skintight posturing
of men in armoured tights,
so we serenade the skyline
with sarcasm and kiss off the wind.