The poem
Everyone who made love the night before was walking around with flashing red lights on top of their heads-a white-haired old gentlemen, a red-faced schoolboy, a pregnant woman who smiled at me from across the street and gave a little secret shrug, as if the flashing red light on her head was a small price to pay for what she knew.
I discovered this poem 1995/1996 as one of the "poems on the underground" published in the London underground. Since that time, I love it