Escape From the Planet of the Apes

Midnight plus fifteen, the streets come alive, Spilling tattooed mobs, teeming motion-blurred From the bars, karate and kung-fu moves in car parks And upon telephone kiosk phone books. Kebabs stinking of extra onion, chilli and garlic sauce, Soaking up beer and chasers, churning innards; Chinese takeaway cartons slung in gutters, Spraying noodles and rice with random artistry. Spiralling fumes of vindaloo, popadums and naan Swirl, snake, samba under neon rain; CCTV super models, skirts no more than belts Hiked under hips, distended abdomens drooping with gravity. Navels pierced, studded, impaled with fake silver, Flesh faintly turning green-tinged; The high heeled stagger continues at ankle-breaking Precariousness; teetering and stumbling, acrobatically drunk. Swimming heads reject the motion sickness, And vomit starts to rise, disgorged, spattering the wet paving With rainbows of liquid colour abstraction, Trickled with a gleeful pale amber stress incontinent stream. It’s easy for a casual observer to plead for escape from This planet of the apes, but have a heart – they’re young, Free and doomed beyond all relative conception. Why not be cool, have fun?