Birthday boy

lager flavoured

day of joy

turned sour

Late hour

On a concrete balcony.

Now he rages on the piss-stench stair

And smashes fists through wire crossed glass

Until police in drama costume

Project their lines

For Peace (breach of)

And lead him by his handcuffed arms

Where hearts and mothers soar with swallows

To a Transit van with bars.

Over on the railway lines

A hooter peeps through closed night blinds.

A council man will sweep the glass

While strangers pass

On the blood spattered steps

Of the piss-stench stair.

Friday will come.

No little furry beasts in this one Jan...but there were a few rats hiding by the burnt out bins against the aerosolled brick wall