dirty scoundrels sweeping the alley,
infect the night, like blood bugs buzz.
uncouth men, sitting in their windblown, spa-like cars,
through drooping eyelashes, hawk for a girl to pass.
dainty filles in airy curls, Versaces and Ralph Laurens,
with Mochi stillettoes flirt with wine and ash.
the guards are two, spatting with one another,
about who’d demand for the bribe–
from a late night venturer.
the pubs are all about to close,
the hour which depletes their barrels,
of such pricey, heavenly liquor.
cars begin to wheel out
with their heavily drugged owners.
and their long forgotten humanities,
well, the flat drunks leave, but the rest prowl,
in search of new robes, to tear,
for the thrill of the screeching,
throbbing flesh to resist their advances.
and to smother the mouth to silence,
with puke-worth kisses. Done.
as the alley darkens, let the dogs wake up.