I used to see them as a boy:

Hanging around on street corners,

Loitering with intent,

Picking off the ice cream vans, one by one.

They pandered to the masses,

Displayed all their wares:

Scalpels, sedatives and inexpensive love.

They were the last resort, the leaky policy,

The get-out-of-jail card, for one more week.

Two for the price of one, sometimes.

‘Lie down...

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