A Promise

There was a promise of a party
at some warehouse,
down in old London town.
Not the city of skyscrapers
and rivers of laundered money.
But the old one.
The dirty one.
The one no longer here.
Remodeled and regenerated.
Rendered safe and somehow shallow.
A one-dimensional copy
of the place, it was before.
There was a promise of a party,
but that’s all it was –
a promise just a promise,
not a certainty,
not even real.


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