North Of Wembley

North of Wembley

A Suburb of a suburb
A row of useful shops
A bridge where trains
Going somewhere
Passed under
The Chinese restaurant
Where sometimes
I would eat and watch
And of course a pub

Friday nights
I would drink cider
Then watch
The fight outside
Or walk
Those empty
After eight streets
My room
Silently waiting

The telephone box
On the bridge
Became my second home
I made it look real nice
But it was cold
I would dial a
Hundred wrong numbers
While trains
Going somewhere
Passed under