Dopamine
Did the creator(s) of his chemicals
wreck his chemicals ?
Or did he recklessly
wreck them on his own ?
He stormed almost violently
through the evening, half an hour after dark,
scowling and barking at enemies unseen;
he seemed to be peculiarly caught
between reproachful suburban streetlamps,
always half a pace ahead of and behind
the previous and the next.
He marched almost violently
through the midday, cool and bright;
his scowl and bark were armed
with a lead pipe to secure
his next square metre of temporary space,
and even the speeding traffic
could not deny his belligerent passage.
He sat almost violently
in the cold, grey defeat of early morning,
scowl and bark, as always, I think,
and the bricks and cars and shopfront windows
may have quivered or laughed,
I haven't had time to ask them,
not that they'd be bothered with me.
The uniforms were calm, unflappable,
his bark and scowl remained fearless as ever,
but became oddly innocuous,
they knew each other by now.
He may be smart enough and unsound enough
to understand that a dark, familiar cell
is a place to go
when you have no place to go;
or it may be simpler or more complex,
he may be smart enough and unsound enough
to not know the difference at all.
It's Friday, late afternoon,
and I have no idea
where he'll be tonight.
24th August 2018
Copyright © Lawrence Sharp | Year Posted 2018
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