Like smells from the drains as thick as gravy. And when Mama broke, her face went wavy. Round and round on the clothes line. Night-cart man Briggs shagged our neighbour, Got her bloomers off, sand paper, Gravel rash, abrasive fleshing. Us kids watched through the fencing.
Eyes see inwards, blistered and yellow.
Hello, you world, I'm just the fellow. Anti-life practitioner, thumb on my bone. Brigitte Bardot, there's a boy's own. This anti- development was taking place On South Street, there we resided, that was the case. You kids Have no idea, we did the deeds.