A quick poem inspired by a Skazat Poetry Slam.
A perfect night,
Once threatening rain; no more.
Walking against the red,
A jaunt in my step.
Where are the fairies on the corner?
Their domain was once vast,
But now only vestiges remain.
Perhaps the cruel without imagination,
Tore them down.
Always a party here,
Lights and a whiff of cannabis.
Is it fair that ditch lilies are acceptable,
But wild weeds must be mown?
Now the fireflies come out,
Advertising phosphorescent sex,
While old women discuss doctors,
And broken bones.
Fading, already forgotten,
Will I remember this when I reach home?
.
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