La Gazza Ladra
The city expects me to drop some change
onto the floor amongst the clowns, cobbles and malnourished pigeons
who peck out the eyes of faces covered by tatty sleeping bags and the news
well, its never good unless you are rich
what that means
matters little.
A few daffodils pinned to cardigans or grey suits
which can be found in charity shops
with many browsing noses
nosy nobodies flicking
through Kafka and other assoted bric a brac
Psalm 23
They took me to the old theatre just off Waldour Street
in order to experience
a vision of hell.
We got drunk beforehand in order to
unsettle out strong stomachs.
We entered the empty hall
cherishing the silence before the show,
sat down on velvet seats
consuming salty snacks.
I was willing to place a bet with my two companions
that nothing would happen.
Relax, they told me
take two of these
and wait
April May March is a Factory Girl from Norwich, England. More of her work can be read at Dogmatika, Zygote in my coffee and laurahird.com
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