230506 15:43 BS8 1LN
Lying in the park sun with a splinter of the dilapidated French Caribbean in my hands and liquorice in my molars then
ears shoved in by a dog's larynx hysteria and an almost-man's
voice, he mono-yells "Dunno where she come from, fuck, don even know er name."
His never-human companion sportswear swaggers behind that "Ye should pu a muzzle on er,
but gaunt and grease-clammy it's "Naw, gon ge er put down ge
The sun shone on, the dog barked;
the liquorice tasted of luxe nothing.