You can read it and other poems here.
The city of angels
Manchester – the town of no transport links.
Built for angels.
Angels don’t need to walk from Victoria to Piccadilly.
They float over the biggest retail ant mound
From one coast to another, the Arndale,
Over the two and a half bewildered trees
In what is jokingly known as Piccadilly Gardens,
And from there
Angels can already see the obsidian tracks
That lead to the dream paradise of London,
Which is only two and a half hours away –
It takes angels forever.
- A poem a day keeps Joe from going insane (mojoey.blogspot.com)