Londoners

I
I love the Afghan physician – here now – driving taxi:
             With equanimity informing:
             “Took eight years to get my wife here.”
With autonomous character and humility he added:
             “Life can be like this.”

What forces coalesced
             – reconciled –
centering, grounding this man!

II
The young Polish woman serving breakfast
             who brashly retorted:
“Poland not good, so I am here.”
             Tears quickening as I reply:
“Perhaps Poland good,
             its politicians acting badly.”
             More tearfully: “Yes, Poland good! I miss it!”

What youthful promise
is concealed as consequence
             to political conceit?

Will she yet avow her gifts their proper prominence?

III
The forty year old Somali
- a refugee – former businessman –
who crossed the border on foot.
             He too providing others transport:
“Artillery fire came too close…
             I left everything behind.”

Worrying.
             Fearing for his children
             here born and safe: How will they fare
without the lessons punctuated by the struggles
             he has known? Do they not
see the folly in their plenitude and ease?
             Return again to Somali?
Yes, he would go – were he to believe
             his family would fare well.

Such courage in this fate’s embrace!

IV
The vigilant young Filipino –
             seven years illegal here: cleaning houses
for Pounds Sterling. Cash only.
             He is fond of saying
“My wife turned up to keep me from straying.”
             This man misses his not-yet adolescent daughter
half the world away:
She lives with her grandmother.

V
The Scot living out his adulthood here:
             Successful professional – reveling in his love for London’s
mosaic of music and culture.

Morning yoga before raising black fedora, then off via the Underground.
             He antes his love daily,
for he honestly loves his wife…and life!

Such freedom arising from his discipline!

VI
I love the scandalously sexy sixty-plus Pole
whose irrepressible beauty and vitality
             – in constant nuanced feminine articulation –
hips askew
whether under the red fabric of her flowing skirts
             or the very close denim of her jeans.

This business woman unabashedly embodies astute prowess,
             grand self-confidence
and a plethora of playfulness.

VII
The former cookery teacher,
then baker,
and now long time successful business solicitor!

It is she whose fastidious prowess
             renders boon upon boon to her clients’ successes.

Whilst too
providing for her Alzheimer’s inflicted mother
             in the flat affixed to her home.

What capacity!

What compassionately intelligent generosity.

VIII
The youthfully elder Irish woman
             pandering to her affair with Drink
as she inhabits this particular stoop on Islington Green:

all the while seeking a pound or two from passersby:
             The odor of Drink close to her breath.

I love how she regales me of those who ignore her
             and those who come to her aid.
I love how she serves me bits of her circumstance:
             the neighborhood’s high rents
and her long and painful absence from her beloved Ireland.

IX
The well appointed Knightsbridge-bound bloke
in the carriage across from me
             on this late night Tube ride from Heathrow:

Rolex gleaming
             as he reorganizes credit cards and foreign currencies
                            in his two wallets.
So oblivious is he
             to my own
                           and the others’ attentions!

X
I love the British Airways crew
propelling her way through passport control:
             So knackered
                          – laddered stockings -
                                       urging herself on…
                                                    almost home…
© 2011 Stephen Victor