They’re like moths in this part of town
Mingling with Postal voters restrained
and constrained by steakhouse
rules feathered by thoughts
of athenia adventures and origins of
Backlight pocket games.
Lobster pots calling reds on blue
perfumes so rude they renamed
the Douche For you
oak in the park referencing mosaics
Lost On the wrong side of Roman ruin.
Still irrelevant and never silent
hooting symphony’s Manxing
over what Could be read or heard from over the hills
as the pollsters survey the Current incumbents
dissatisfaction with charred storage
as ladders to the roof turnstilers.
with the best two left feet and drinking inches
And still a full twelve miles from publicity shy.
it’s a hot Summer and the apples stools
look long and Rosie red as dapple dangles
Upon the roped greens rotting apples
Are you sitting comfortable.
Rave less child talking to imaginary friends
trapped In syndrome laser synthesise
beta blocking With martial constrainable.
Loveless dancers with glow stick remixers.
For take two for tango and no tears at the cribs door.