Nursery crime rates pay
for the high-rise temples,
unserviced lifts to vain gods;
a piss-pool sample in
consistency of Planner's
incontinence.
Those who box clever
seek solace and safety
behind curtain-walled
cul-de-sac cloisters.
Now socially constructed
communities, disrupted,
but for the grid-dip
when shiny kettles click
camaraderie, at Soap's end.
Reality, never real
shares consciousness,
wraps tomorrow's chips
on the multilevel floors of
blank solitary cells.
2004
----------------------
minor edit 17.01.11
