Memoirs

100 pounds of insanity,
just enough brains
to flatter sexuality.
Dreaming of those lips,
pondering that ass.
A million firemen
pouring onto your flame -
but the alleyways
will always be a reminder:
September autumns,
Georgian winters,
never a Catholic christmas.
Such savagery drags
the bird into the cat’s lair.
Delinquent Suffrage,
let your voice be heard,
through windows
up-out from toilets.
Infections are your memoirs:
my heart will always be sick.