there used to be
a church there
old and stone worn
born into and of the
'rock of ages '

where is it now?

it shines behind green screens
reflecting
the one armed bandits
in the glass eyes of
the fortune tellers booth.

arcade games and
not rosary beads
feed the hopes of man

I tame lions for a living
and tigers on Fridays
my days are a gambol
through every jungle
I read about when a boy.

In the bingo hall
(which doubles as a
dance hall )
under the glitter ball
because it's so sixties,
I'm  waiting for a number
to call me
I've been here forever
which is a long time in
anyone's generic code

I meant genetic but generic
is the same by any or another
name.

If the lights go out
I might too
but it's not up to me
It's all down to you

which makes things
simpler.

Except
now there's no place to pray
and if I did
it's a gamble and it's an
antiterrorist jungle out there.

Vigilante groups everywhere
I need eyes in the back of my head
just to watch my back.

The nomad will return
again and again
wandering
always.