To sit in The Cambridge,
the air warm with excitement,
as beer flows and complements to the flavour
of the rousing conversational chase, back and forth,
hurriedly
slowly…
the odd glass or three of
Simon’s Cider peppering the aroma,
punctuated by a Ginger Goddess
staring into her empty glass with the shock value
of one in need of another
after a heavy day hitting the books,
the pages in between and the words beaten
into submission, black eyed, panda like,
sat under constant university
strobe flickering wildly,