LVX CREARE

Bare-footed wench strides confidently
trolley luggage in tow, bus ticket in fist
where could she possibly be going to?
a place where shoes are not required

Grubby faced baby chews a biscuit rusk
food stained bib, glassy eyed stare
what did she have for breakfast today?
something brown, not totally nutritious

Dilapidated youth sit for their breakfast
brown paper sacks, golden arches, soda
weren’t they sat there also yesterday?
sheepskin lined boot-slippers and all

Man in track pants and tattered singlet
clutches a crumpled black shopping bag
does he think it hides the beer bottle?
everyone can smell it anyway, mate!

Uniformed schoolgirls gossip like hens
who slept with who, when and where
is it desirable to be so promiscuous?
perhaps immorality is a badge of rank

Thin man in leather jacket blows smoke
lets the ashes fall around the clean path
obviously ignoring the ‘no smoking’ sign
the stench is perfume to his urban filth