By and | 1 August 2014

In the constant tramline motion of his trainers
He took the third and added a choice amendment
To their wish fulfilment; but don’t doubt he loved —

He did, big time and strong, the tall buildings wavering.
Sneaker rocker ripping holes in the velvet sky
Beards howl hoot spurt in any/all directions

Celebrate dystopia and delirious freefall!
Knock, come in, close curtain, breathe, slap
And tickle your way — his way — to joyous

Occasional relapse. We are all too fallible,
He noted, riding high on subway vapours, trapping
Phonemes from their speech bubbles, making

Debauched art in the depths of his positronic
Spectacle of sound and deathwish. Drag him
Out of bed, straddle him and know the mosaic

Is riddled with grace and temptation, take a leaf,
Take his better judgement, and heap praise on his
View Down Town — those ticket stubs of pleasure,

those cars stacked high as pheromones;
those lads with eyes on buttercream girls;
those idols with sonic points of reference;

those wizards who sense the coming collision;
those wisps that excite the heart, music spreading gold;
those clotted needles in trash cans searched out again;

Remixing the mess of his days, he checks out of the city
And makes itinerant on country roads, a crossroads
Judgement, a falling in with good ol’ boys
Who’ll take him down.

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