cul-de-sac
streets without names
faceless houses
thoughts unruly parked
like sardines in a tin can
jostling for space
and defiance
intemperate weather
high strung nerves
muddy roads
converging on one place
high decibel music
come on have a blast
gimme one gimme two gimme three
i can have them all
fair maidens on the house
as i think i am tired
thoughts don’t swell anymore
they lie deep down
in murky recesses
and from there play
their merry games (sfx: laughter)
such sadism
your alter ego
is the one that’s taking you
down down down
there is a dark side to every moon
sirens bleat
it’s time to go
the worker comes home
belts his wife
abuses his child
he had a bad day at work
the show must continue
retribution as safety valve
and at the house
on the rutty street
with a long driveway
and a garden on the side
the party goes on
till the wee hours
of the decrepit morn
(August 22 2004)
