Bugaloo Sunset

you wouldn't know a carburettor
from the conscience of a debt-collector
or the conscience of the Vatican
or the conscience of a benign dictator


you couldn't tell a moshpit
from a pile of steaming horseshit
or the Cerne Abbus giant's controversial bit
or an election broadcast promo


you don't know the difference
between the rock of Gibraltar
and a pebble off of the coast of Malta
and a secret service woman's false beard


and you don't seem to realise
that I really couldn't care less
for when I stare into your cock-eyed eyes
I imagine you and I, a work-in-progress


in a place where descriptions don't matter
in a place, they are shortly to invent
under the influence of a natural drug
under a bugaloo sunset

by Stephen Andrews

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.