From London Notebook by Mark Pirie

East End Talk

you, muthafucker!
yeah, you come back
tomorrow, or we's kick
yr ass, you punk ass
nigga, think
you can fool us
but we don't play dat

shit muthafucker!
I'm tellin ya
you just make sure
you's back here
tomorrow or we's
gonna kick
yr black Indian ass,
bitch!

For my sister

Before we even got to the Comedy Club
which, to me, wasn't all that funny;

I mean, a guy confessing all about masturbation,
an Indian man who wanted to shag the front-row lads

and the lead entertainer who'd run amuck of time,
deterred by relentless heckling, we had hailed a taxi.

"The one with the light on is free!"
my sister said.

We climbed in and drove down the road, but not
without me, firstly, trying to get in the front of

the cab, not realising, of course, in London
there's no front seat...

and then, as we arrived at our destination
my brother-in-law went to pay the driver.

I asked my sister,
"Why is he paying? I thought you said

if there's a light on it's free?"
And my sister just started laughing, uncontrollably.