it is my mother’s birthday.

we stood and watched
punch and judy yesterday,
while god was all behind us.

he bashed, we laughed,
he bashed, laughed more,
he bashed.

children were removed
from the vicinity,
others stayed.

incorrect musings
regrading life and buskers.

pastel buildings mask
the incorecctness of it all.

it is my mothers birthday.

sbm.