Picadilly Circus

An unsightly place.
Delicate streams of a fountain
Arch into a Victorian statue,
Surrounded by old streetlamps
Whose hazy light
Picks up the water
But the cupid is lost up in the darkness
Beyond which the neon
And back-lit advertisements
Have lost their appeal
Except to throngs of tourists
And youth attracted by arcades.
Not so much a place
As a convergence of routes.