Poem #12

Theme: anything for a dollar bill. Setting: south-south London, Über-territory. Two, three jabs of punch and a pastel John Dory. Restless thirty-thirst, seeking mutual thrill. Idea! We know it’s drink talking, but drink tells good stories. Follow our liquid raconteur out on to the grass; Instant blow to seat a weaker man firmly on his arse. ‘I’m sorry but I’m so angry,’ recompense, freeze. Not freeze like stand-still but freeze like damn cold Freeze like sounds in the drum solidified like raptors in the fold. Back inside giggling with our paper cash prize, Informing every ear what it missed with its eyes. My own ear, for now, bust like a lip. For another dollar I’ll swallow that tulip.

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