London After Midnight

A shrouded traveler clomps inside (door slams)
the ghost of England, he is.
And with tea breath and blood-red eyes,
he's clearly seen chalk-white cliffs I'll never see
and clearly tells me so
Tells me so in the land of no midnight pints
bombproof garbage cans
and a tube way below (dontcha know)
under the towers of London and the Tower of London
under the language of the surface bugs
beneath the buzz and toil of butchers
and smiling wrinkled vaginas.
The shrouded traveler says he works on a ship
way out to sea (dontcha know) way out
beyond the curve of the Earth. He says
a ghostship is waiting
to take him to his new home.