Shivering I got up from my ice sheet bed and walked into night streets.
Pot holed roads and uneven pavements, a systematic ruin to save tax
payers money which is easy in a poor, powerless neigbhourhood.
What happened to lust? The pleasure and awe running through veins
filling my body with life. And then around a corner they came, women
I had loved, old now, empty breasts, thin legs, flapping vaginas and
pubic hair brittle as Fidel Castro’s beard. They didn’t see me but ran
to a bronze statue of my youth standing proudly erect on a pedestal.
I was full of rage and consumed by jealousy. How dare they ignore me?
How dare my youth be so boastful? I collected smeared napkins and
condoms, tried to set fire to the statue, that was starring down at me
with a giant erection and deep contempt. It was no good the fire
didn’t melt the copper. God, let me have just one more erection and
an ejaculation that will forever smother lingering lust. The women
had boarded a diesel stinking bus, they were going to the woods,
pick magic mushroom and dance in the glade. Overflowing bins,
cat piss and broken supermarkets trolleys. From the east a few rays
of sunlight came and made the city decay beautiful.