sometimes

prudence

sucks

sometimes

the Spirit

blows

the whole welfare

cheque at Macy’s

on perfume

poured over

the feet

of a friend

who no sooner

steps into

sweaty gumboots

and starts

mucking out

the stables

sometimes

the perfect

beauty

of the wasted

the thrown away

the drain

overwhelms

you with

a faith

glad to live

no longer

than a midge.