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.