Feel the close-knit planking, caulked with pitch,
rise under your footsteps.
A slope so slight you’d barely notice.
feeling lazy @
feeling lucky @
feeling lost
Loose change jangles, slaps at your thighs.
Flanked by pair of gaudy clowns,
the square maw, yawning, beckons:
The belly of this long, low shed
is permanently dim;
carries a mild threat of empty pockets;
offers no other choice.
To get to the end of the pier
you must pass through.
feeling bored @
feeling better @ 
feeling broke
Varnished cabinets of wood and glass
line the sides: slot machines,
pinball tables, penny pushers.
Torpedoes fired from periscopes
sink plastic subs beneath the plastic waves.
Toy cranes claw at trinkets.
From a jukebox in the corner
Max Romeo – banned on radio –
sings about (so he claims) a leaky roof.
feeling cheeky @ feeling chill @ 
feeling cheated
Hear the mechanics of skill and chance.
In games of redemption, you never see
how your coppers drop below –
those dark channels where flat spent faces,
all dotted eyes and mouths slit wide,
pile up like a sea of yellow discs.
viii. 2023
No comments:
Post a Comment