Hypocrite
No shoes! But still, off she wanders!
Muttering confused menaces as she avoids
Green, Brown and clear broken shards, remnants of a joyous, rich revelry
Along the wide pavements of the Western Road
No shoes! stands staring at a fat man's roll
a bilge pump of overflowing egg & sweetcure bacon
dropping like a Red Cross aid package
to malnourished pigeons that tussle for prizes
Her stomach worries the Richter scale ’neath her stinking clothes
No shoes! as she scuttles along the cobbles of The Lanes
Swearing at small children
halitosis disguised by Woodpecker, before the mid morning
but still passing advice & comment on the evils of society
to any member of the public
foolish enough to cross her path
No Shoes! Mental!
Exclaims the Children’s Illustrations Undergraduate,
dressed in a Great War trench coat, sporting an ironic Fez.
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