It has a stark, brutal Reality all of its own.
Beggars, Pocket-Thieves & Tuppenny Uprights
are much more than squalid, scenic decoration.
Violence, close-at-hand, but, not felt by impact,
ricochets in sounds…
Razors, a screeching whistle,
Kickings, bass drum beats,
& Strangulation, sounds just like a broken sewer pipe
a-hissing & a-gurgling.
Each Corner, inhabited by Foot Soldiers…
learn to read Gang Graffiti
or pay the way of the snare.
The Muggers refer to themselves
as Moonlight Tax Collectors.
Shoe-Shines are Lanterns (Lookouts)
& Errand Boys
are simply the best dwelling Scopers in Town.
The Abortion Clinic, at the back of the Abattoir,
pulses like a heartbeat
& smells of almonds & marzipan
as you saunter on past.
This is not the way of the tourist,
nor lightweight weekend-warrior.
There is nothing romantic about VD,
broken ribs whilst itinerant,
the DTs in a police cell after bleeding…
or bedding down where the stray dogs don’t even piss,
in the Winter rain, with busted mind & shipwrecked soul.
