A Short Sharp Drop.

This isn't even worth publishing but I want to get it "out there".

A Short, Sharp, Drop.

I refuse to delegate myself

To a delicate life,

A life of tea but no cappuccino,

Of cigarettes but no cigars

And cheap nights on the town

Shooting bad pool with drunk thugs

Taking mental photographs of people

Better suited than I.

And I peer into the dirty glass,

Onto the cold damp street

I see a store,

I see a bank,

An office block

And think of all the banks

And the stores

And the office blocks

That there might be until

The sea roles salty promises

Over the mosaic pedals

Beneath Brighton Pier.

Author's Note

Have mercy.