Poet: Alan Gillis
Post Code: EH02
Filmmaker: S
Princes Street
The Scott monument
spires over a girl who begs
in a stench of piss-scent
as pigeons peck at Greggs
pastry, a can of stale beer,
dogshit, stubbed-out fags.
"Fuck off out of here,"
says a man to the wind-whipped
girl, and I'm stood here
like a dunted dip-
shit under black Binnie shale,
waiting for your lip-
sticked smile, your cold pale
face like a haddock fillet,
as he hoicks a real
big snochter and spits
in her face - a splurt of catarrh
that driddles, divots
her dark chin like pus,
like a green gridlocked Edinburgh
Tours open-topped bus.
