January 21, 2009


by Matt Holt

You and I stumble about town
Like Paris after the revolution
And your famous fleeting eyes
Are as green as the sea in rain
And we see everyone seeing us.
We are drunk in the present,
Un-sexed by the future,
Being dragged into strip clubs –
Where the girls are all thin as dawn –
Only to turn around and laugh & shrug
Ourselves out of the spruiker’s fat grasp.
And cabs creep slow
Behind us waiting for our patronage.
And you tell me that the
Truth is harsh but not bright;
It is a lens in the rain, and the
flesh of it all is captured on film.

*spruiker: a person who is paid to get passers-by to go into a place of business (e.g., a strip club).


paisley said...

very well written.. i was right there with you,, felt a part of it all,, not like an onlooker....

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