I am bored of explaining myself
to those I meet day-to-day
[why
is still not clear to me] –
those in
a few miles vicinity know more –
it seems –
than me –
that glint in
their eyes describes what they’ll
repeat on gossip-slow streets –
a
story I heard ’bout my flit history
made me laugh –
if only it were a
truth –
Give me a year & I will run
far from this Tory-rub of vapidity
& not have to endure tittle-tattle
& those sniffs of my mislaid past
they lay out like lines of cut coke
on kitchen tops
[they inhale shit]