A Ramble Around Saint James’s Park

I’m lost in London’s oldest royal park on a Friday afternoon.
It’s the truth. My sense of direction is not what it used to be.
I stand and watch the pelicans vulning themselves beside the lake.
The Palace to the west. The Mall
and the blackened bronze of the
Boer War memorial straight ahead.
What became of the lady lepers when they disbanded the hospital in 1532?
What became of the camels and the crocodiles?
The harlots and the ragpickers and the rake hells?
I’ve been walking round in a daze for almost 9 months now.
There’s an undertow. And it’s dragging me under.