when i move to london
i hope an earnest photographer with a film camera
or a tipsy friend with a disposable
takes a picture of me on the underground
maybe on the jubilee
or the bakerloo line
so it could look like 2018 or 1979

maybe i’m wearing a tan coat
or a green wool scarf
in brogues or moon boots
with long knitted socks

as if i put myself together
in a flat next to the station
with leftover lentils
and pot plants everywhere

i hope a corner of the image is over-exposed
and i’m not sitting on the chair properly

i hope i wear hoop earrings
and a red hair ribbon
or a sequinned scrunchie

as if i put myself together
on the south bank of the thames
with a second hand paperback
and a bag of sherbet lemons

i hope the flash reflects in the tube car window
and my head is slightly inclined
it could be 2018 or 1979

i hope i wear fishnet tights
steel toe cap boots
and a wide pink smile

as if i put myself together
in a club toilet
with mini bottles of gin
and a whole heavy grapefruit

i hope someone else’s smile is not in focus
because i have just said something funny

i hope a girl on the internet
in 30 years time
it could be 2018 or 2049
finds my picture
faded, browned, scanned in flat
and thinks


she grew herself like that