Crumbs
I belong to yesterday
Today i perspire
Koine and two more demerara sugars
Another belly, another hazard of meat
Royal
So many useless words
Continue to insult me
The security guard who knows me
Behaves like a buk buk and beggars belief
There are stifled yawns from the
Athletic wet roc yellow belly
The passport-holder makes me nervous
So the pages descend to level of table top
The oriental, tooth-picking...right
The courteous hand that shields...left
A red bucket on wet roc and a
Hand that sifts through ornamental bark chippings
Does it search for moisture?
Or does the dryness have the uppishness?