Wandering the Streets of Fitzrovia

by Jerry Ratch

I'm deathly afraid of the pub crawls 

of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia 

because of the ghosts of alcohol already 

etched inside my veins 

and the headlong loss of oxygen and thought 

down the winding escalator of generations 

who've been drunken there 

and had their heads knocked about 

longing for extinction 

after the heavy crawl up from the slime 

and watering hole of the imagination 

before time and the beginning of time even began