something almost special,
    happens to england,
                   when it snows...
as might deem,
filling the void
             of watching
             the earth become
                layered by
        the white stuff...
esp. during the night...
       harrowing, grey,
october....
                  pink is the new white
when it comes to spring blossoms...
and the japanese are
more european than they'd
like to nod to....
quirks, oddities
  governing all things asiatic...
but when it snows in england,
my, my,
          what an ingenius idea
to consecrate an existence
           of a people...
  bound to a land
             non-continental.
me? among the english?
i pretend to be german,
to be the big brother...
because,
you can't exactly state
   a genealogy focusing
on anglo-pomeranians...
     but it's fun, wishing the idea
to be as true, as it is to be truant
simultaneously...
        cystic fibrosis celts...
      ugh: and a glug...
               please tell me
to forget why i migrated...
  leaving grandparents
and a burgeoning town
   in scraps, and tatters...
             because:
                     there's also cairo
without a giza to mark a
town...
                     worthy of
anything akin to
habitation, i.e. more or less
a flacid posit
of cheap-***
geography students
   mimed by tourists...
     bugging *******!
can't take them anywhere,
without a leash /
                        tour guide!
shveeden, shveeden...
       puck'ah the lips
  and pursue the prune;
because that selfie of
pursed lips, agitating
a revival of the **** goose step...
became a donald domino,
of an arc quack,
              with duck lisping.