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 suffer’d 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.