In Budapest

Hazel Ettridge

Ah, the thrill

Of running down a street

Lit only by cafe glow

To see a dog 

Taking a pee

And bundles in doorways

That are sleeping men

Ah, the thrill

Of running down a street

Where students  smoke 

and taxis speed by

Or wait for fares

Where the smell of pancakes

And curry mixes

With the rubbish of the day

Ah, the thrill

Of running down a street

And yes, I admit to

Feeling a little afraid

Of men just standing and

Men just turning away

And dark alleys

Where muffled music plays

And sounds of life

Come in short gasps

Ah, the thrill

the thrill of running

Running down a street

In Budapest