Li po in his prime
reclined
in silken robe
on brocade couch

Surrounded by jasmine
perfumed dancing girls

Singing out verses
immersed in wine

Gentle river yielding
delicate fish.

Compare and contrast
dingy corner of cheapened pub
with a last pint of black stuff
in a faded seaside town.

Sense of a crumbling life
barmaid checks her teeth
in the shining mirror of
a bald pate.

So to pier end
no sense to leap
only cockles and mud
mud and cockles

And the effluent of
one million surplus souls