drowning on the closing page of winter along the filth stained streets, downtown Cape Town, i walk upstream through the sea of turnstile smiles searching for a drop of sincerity.
drifting towards my vagrant home with struggling sluggish steps, my starved, lethargic lactic acid legs weigh heavy hiking hungry.
trapped in a wayward ever-mend cul-de-sac at a blue traffic light, my crippled compass passes the warning signs of humdrum sighs, silencing my whistled barbed wire lullabies under sufferβd sulfur skies.
basking in cold-shoulder greetings and downtrodden dismissals my empty rag pocket bags offer no trump cards or blankets on the bone chilling pavements of this tortured Topheth town.
September sings springs song as my ember flickers under soaked socks and shredded sneakers, waiting for the sun to dry my wings and fly me westward from these deacon blues towards the beacon view shining life anew.