I am seated next to an 18 year old girl in a stylish black trench coat.

She loves this coat because its interior is patterned with multi-colored circles,
and she refers to the coat in her mind as the gumdrop,
coat.

She carries with her,
a happy yellow handbook,
a notebook,
she is writing in now,
a pack of cigarettes,
it will be another 8 years before she realizes she doesn't even like smoking,
a passport,
and a one-way ticket to London.

In London she knows no one.

She has a room,
booked in a hostel in Brennan,
and around $500 USD in her bank account.

She had purchased her ticket two weeks prior after notifying her landlord of her departure.

Landlord was planning on evicting her anyway.

And an adventure awaits her.

So does the kindness of strangers,
in cold night crying in a hostel bed with an empty stomach.

Right now she is riding,
the high of hypomania,
scribbling intensely in her notebook.

Excitement and longing mixed in her bloodstream,
an intoxicating cocktail,
making her feel lightheaded.

Hypomania,
will call her delirium.

We'll dance this girl from the foggy heights of San Francisco,
to the uneven cobbled streets of Covent Garden.

Delirium's driving beat will lead her through,
a thong of blurred London city life,
live music,
and the sour smell of pub floors baptized in beer.

There will be artists,
musicians,
and lawyers who work in cities,
pretty young Swedish men in a flat filled with mirrors.

Men,
sheeshia, sessions,
and camels out.

Say that five times fast after Osi.

Perhaps the fluttering,
thrashing is not far behind.

He will catch up with her and delirium,
stepping out of the,
quiet lamp of a hostel room in North London.

Delirium will receive the chasal prize knowing,
she has overstepped the boundary this time.

And the girl will allow depression to comfort,
her on a narrow bed with cinchies wrapping strong arms around her and sampling them both,
in his dark night cloak.

I look away, seeing a woman riding in her notebook across to the,
gate seating area with floor ceiling windows.

Over there it's still 1999.

There is a scrawny,
kid with her hair cut voyagely short,
looking out the window.