Just the City

Swimming, swimming, in cardboard
boxes down on Easy Street;
filled with rancid tinfoil
reflecting Mind’s poverty
and frozen thoughts no-more.

Begging, begging, “Will work
(and sleep) for Common Sense.”
Holding out material leaflets
like so much Money
or Spiritual Fullfilment.

Shouting, shouting, over traffic
rush and taxi horns beating
a rhythm of Lust not
love–it’s out of style–
million droplets of Meaning.

Calling, calling, on an Ancient
payphone “Chivalry wants his
world back”; just humming
into a line fraught with
Catastrope songs and images.

Swim your way to the end.
Beg your way back again.
Shout to the souls and they’ll
Call back in understanding.

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