wide anglo

churning mind teeming with unseemly characters

rummaging in the lives of your acquaintances for warmer temperatures

in cafes and bars along the glittering sea where you are seen

outside the queens arms holding forth passionately in a beer garden

unamazed by burgeoning spring and the romanian girls dangling from your knee

in a fog of despair you go open misere

that is losing everything you feel you must lose even more

hubris you fool maybe the rules are there for a reason

in tropico nights the red lights of a carnival of soul singers

in the pit with the flutes and lutes the cutest honey drones her viola

in the sand with a sandwich you manage to charm poor Venezuela

a stiff drink and a soft bed but a hard head always splitting hairs

you buy em lunch following a hunch of some distant reward

i am floored

soon must come

the bolt

the disc

the mace

or the sword

(hope youre insured)