Bunkered down
writers inside Town Hall
escape into a bubble of
pure creativity, receding
yet emerging without distractions

Just for a short time
we create a ghetto
amongst traditional buildings
and feel guilty about
embellishing, gorging on
the process

Last night’s literary conversation
oozes out of pores
smelling of gin
clashing with espresso
jump-starting our minds
for another day
just one more day