Skin in glass, window undressing. Secret smiles for everyone. Bikes with sidecars. Bikes with bells.
Legs and heels and thighs and legs. Calves and knees and legs and legs.
Vice and virtue, vice and girls. Perfect and imperfect tens. Every one a stand up stand out. Till the next one, on and on.
Houses soar and keep on rising. Drinks are steep but stairs are steeper. Foamy tops that tower tall. Don’t look up you’ll miss the scene-ree.
Stunning hosts lurk outside diners. Luring tourists to their death. Like sirens, selling food with smiles. Euros thrown into a hole.
English. English everywhere.
Hanging baskets. So much green. And black and brown and lines of white. At happy hour, happy people. Smiley faces, hi so high.
Summer breeze brings sweet sativa, drifting gently on the breeze. Boys and girls and babes in baskets. One generation shows the next.
Mopeds, hats off. Peep shows, hats off. Better sorry, best not tell.
Beneath the neon clad in nothing. UV lights reveal the truth.
Hot vents spewing carbs.
Fit joggers getting fit.
Light diffused by poplar leaves.
If everyone’s above the average, average must be beautiful. Guys with tans and girls with tans watch men watch men watch womankind. Blowing froth and smoke and guys. Rules do not exist round here. Mastering the master race. Body parts and casual trade.
Men abroad. Drinking pints, absorbing Facebook. Stotting, stumbling, tipsy early. Dodging trams and bikes and cars.
Where the water meets the shore, the weekend passes like a Snapchat.