« branding_news.jpg.gif: A One-Act Farce | Main | For Rich: Dr Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Arse »

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,
motherfucker"
but gaunt and grease-clammy it's "Naw, gon ge er put down ge
a
new
one
like."

The sun shone on, the dog barked;
the liquorice tasted of luxe nothing.

TrackBack

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://journals.concrete.org.au/cgi-bin/mt/mt-trekbek.cgt/76

Post a comment

(If you haven't left a comment here before, you may need to be approved by the site owner before your comment will appear. Until then, it won't appear on the entry. Thanks for waiting.)