Between Compass and Backfire

...a journey south, 10 miles as the crow flies

well... it would have been south if I had a compass

and who still uses 10 miles as the crow flies nowadays?

I deliberately took the wrong side street—side quest

against my better judgment and the internal sat nav

To see what I could see as I sauntered into areas

unknown and unseen at least to me, you see, it was

the rougher end of town, the "don't dare set foot there"

where they can smell the blood of outsiders

and will give you dirty looks until you leave the vicinity

The nettle—it grows under the strawberry

and the wholesome berries ripen and thrive

dwelling with fruit of baser quality

Baser indeed—with the arses hanging out and tinfoil burnouts

Fortunately, a trip through no man's land of the poor

is a holiday for me—not for them

callous? more than likely, but I'm too happy-go-lucky

to care, to wish for anything other than what I have

they can have their own wishes—I'm not their saviour

as I take another interesting turn—on a whim—like

this is my Disneyland—my day-off expedition

I see an old man sitting with a can in one hand

and a cig in the other. He looks 89—but I swear—

he's 50—don't ask me how I...

~

Crash!

~

Something smashed. My headlights?

No wait—I'm not in a car. An engine backfired and

something smashed—crashed to the ground, and babies

can be heard singing—the songs of their oppression

broken windows—boards over doors, and gardens that

well, I don't want to say they're like trash sites, but

they are.

Then I saw—I saw an angel.

She had her teeth still intact, no track marks or

dead behind the eyes expressions on her face

just a pretty young thing on a losing streak

she's wearing shoes and is pretty pretty—I...

I think she's coming up to speak, so I

Prince Charles her wit "Camilla, I love you"

I told my angel, she was my grace and calm

her honeyed words trickled from her lips

like the last embrace between those two characters

honeyed lips treacled would be funnier.

turning yet another corner in this maze

of despair takes me to a set of houses

I say houses when hovels would be better

a set of hovels with ill intent

if you don't believe houses can have ill intent

you're a bigger fool or smarter genius.

the house just bled pain—suffering, and a little

misplaced trust in JD Vance.

Some people can't be helped.

Life, it seems, is about realising that—leaning into the magical chaos

it's about appreciating...

love left me a little blind, with the tongue of her mouth

and the thumb of her arm—I know—Eye know

I can love her better.

Love tho, based on the short time we've spent together

walking through the dog's asshole end of town,

seems—presumptuous.

Where's my tie?

Muay Thai, et es partum e parti,

ego disperdam illum

mulli madrepsid oge itrap e mutrap se te