The ‘Ox’ – Rosie Welch

They had seen the writing on the wall
those money shakers.
Once powered 24/7
death by neon tubes
for ye ‘ol Oxford.
Wheelin’ and dealing
assortments of rock,
studded punters
strumming
keys of bona fide rock.
Beloved digs
the original,
complete with bingo, bistro,T.A.B.
Dirt cheap
hanging by night,
a clutch of street wise geeks
The demise
sharp and swift.
Painful for a following
as the fluorescent
blinks in and out of, off.
A veteran of the block
all me hombres have dropped.
Vetted by developers,
meta slybots.
The vernacular
said to be replaced
with, new
fan-dangle
ultra capacitors,
galactic spaces
and the echoes of nearby
lame, top twenty pop.