Ode to Kemptown

A poem about the east end of Brighton

Streets of crooked faces seeking the best price

on lobotomy strength apple brew,

slide like penniless snakes through lanes

of gruff bears sucking on smokes, each other.

 

Mog emerges from a tiled doorway, eyes downcast

from shooting a vial of contraband catnip-

man trips on scarf, scatters the six volumes

taken with pennies from strip lit charity shop

 

Woman in hat wrinkles her bluestone eyes, at

a jar of chattering buttons, telling somme tales-

hand in hand, the lovers slink into the solace

of unkempt kemp town gypsy jazz.