What betrayed us after
dark when we were teenagers was a
pinprick of Embassy orange.
I suppose they were bought
by whoever looked oldest, or nicked
off parents by one of our mates.
Now, floodlit rectangles
pinpoint the shiver of huddled girls,
mouthy boys, dying to snog them.
Smoking has died a death.
Yet kids today are still lighting up –
at each new mention of their names.