In white wash, pale, gaunt stainless pubs
Clubs
and late night bars
Where bleached sterile colourless colded
Folded
thoughts neatly stored away
Bored away
with stilted disinfected clean
Entertainment machines,
drinkeries and chameleon venues
Where you
aborb the sharp clean lines
Defines,
delineates too clearly the contrasts
Nothing lasts
No,
Give me the scars and finger marked doors,
Foot worn floors
and mascara run paint,
Faint
lights and shadows,
Of the hallowed
sacred solitude of the men’s room
Midnight moon
hued walls, but I’ll remember just this
The colour of Cocoa Mist