pigeons still
wait for meals
by that bench
where Sun once grew
in tufts of gold
girls skipping classes
to window shop
their scarves wild
and their nails chipped
tough boys go out and smoke
and cough and dance
and act brave
and cut their hair
in the dark
and words of a new language
tumble down our tongues
head over heels
tasting strange
but falling into place
after all