Dido & Aeneas Bust

…so they posted all marked
‘Return to Sunder’ and wiped up the wine
stains on the amphitheatre
Dumped the crap on the ancient garbage heap
festooned with the memory of abject voices
moaning on the tundra
A frail insouciance emerges while scrolling down for snippets
to tempt you into a look ma no hands
its me alone before a suspect device
that makes me feel
uncomfortable pouring out my soul
like this online bleeding
out in public on anonymous lockdown
streets in full view of the lonely
avenue where Junior Wells plays harp to passers
by who look up in curiosity only to
discover a chancer with delusions of grandeur
in a panama hat sucking toothless
gums for tasty titbits after an obstinate
chip of stale pitta induced spluttering and panic
before being washed down with a gulp
of cold Columbian coffee then a twinge
in the middle finger
whose name is forgotten
next to the index and ring
on the left hand so what is the right little sad
if nameless call it unknown soldier
close to one of two little piglets

What to play on a rainy day?
Indoor or outdoor games of the mind…