Every time
I walk down this way
a short cut to an upmarket part of town
tears of something
drip onto my hat
from far above
the rumbling elevated freeway
every time
the sidewalk buried Earth
stirs beneath the soles of my boots
sick in the chest
gut-coughing out humanity's restlessness
and it always fevers
a blood flow of dirt and chemical dust
and the crying of something
from far above
keeps dripping down
every time
I hope it's just gutter water
seeping through scars in the asphalt
and wounded concrete
but I know
its thickened
poisoned
with motor oil, diesel, rust
and hits my hat
distant, faraway
last heartbeats
every time
I walk with purpose to get out of here
away from the constant dripping
popping in my ears
dirty water
keeping the festering garbage wet and rotting
strewn around the concrete pillars
but my black leather jacket takes it better…
…I give it a good black shoe polish rub once in a while
and the little weepings of something
cascading down
hits my shoulders
burst into smaller droplets
bouncing off
into the wet mess of the slippery
crap covered sidewalk
down here
below the freeway
the sun stays away
I don't blame it
the things that really count
up there in the heavens
don't deserve to see illness like this
I'll never blame it for not bothering to heal the darkness down here
shade and shadows
light killing crematoriums
even on the brightest of days
a permanent incurable daylight nightmare ward
there was a time a few years ago
when about two dozen broken bums
lived down here
in the constant shade and shadows
around the garbage strewn pillars
constant drops of something
dripping down
their colourful makeshift cardboard and plastic shelters
adding fluttering rainbows to the daylight shade and shadow nightmare
happy in the crap and filth
and drops of something always dripping down
a small and jovial chaotic dream town
fires burning in discarded tumble dryer and washing machine drums
cooking food, boiling water in tin cans
staying warm when the gales come in from the southern ocean
burning all manner of trash strewn around
a haze of smoke and stench
for them it was easier down here
below constant rumbling
sleeping on the shaking earth
hidden in the shade and shadows
the constant dripping
than somewhere else
where the gales
and the ice rain that rode it
could kill the breathable air
at times like those
when the sky was at its worst
this place below the overhead freeway
could save a life
I knew some of them quite well
skew faced
dirt covered
toothless
honest people
few were criminals
maybe that was the reason why they were starving and poor
but a local drug dealing street gang chased them out
they became an eyesore for the drug business
an offence to the wannabe toffs and socialites
coming down here into the ghetto
driving
slowly
imported German cars
bargaining for refills for their noses
a weekend dose of razor blade Nigerian coke
haggling to ride the corners of their minds on cotton breath Ethiopian hash
begging to puff their veins turquoise on a slice of Middle Eastern heroin
only the dried weed was local
sold in fancy plastic sachets
with the name of the cultivar
printed in a font and lettering
any cheap backyard laptop and printer could handle
taking inspiration from the sealed condom wrappings
sold at the corner shops
a one buck condom
in a two cent wrapping
half a cent lettering
now the bums are gone
and the garbage
wannabe toffs and socialites
still come down here
slowly
to fester
happily preferring the rotting stench of wet garbage
to the unbearable sight
of broken human beings
skew faced
dirt covered
toothless
and the little empty weed condom inspired sachets
stay strewn around
the shade and shadows are still here
the sun still stays away
and like always
I walk with purpose down here
the tears of something popping in my years
from far above the elevated freeway
hitting my hat like final heartbeats
but my black leather jacket
takes it better
through this shortcut
to an upmarket part of town…
Conrad Kruger van den Bergh (Copyright, 18 February, 2022)
No comments:
Post a Comment