In a Foreign Land (day 1276)

A large laneway spoiled my walk.
It burst open at the seams with
Garbage and decay
That nearly side swiped me
With unbridled consumption.

The laneway confused me
As I contemplated it a while
From the safe sidewalk on Main Street.
It steamed and gurgled and
A faint smell of piss and regret
Hissed at me with a cold bite in the air.

From here, my memory served me well. It reminded me of cannons
And a bazaar in a foreign land
That was purely barbaric,
Entirely rusty and soiled from
Years of neglected abuse.

In my idle moments I watched
Three souls wander the laneway
With as much passion
As one would expect lost souls
From Christ the Redeemer’s
Empathetic sermon to have.

And I was alone, wondering,
Thinking to myself in the 1-2-1 rhythm
Of my left-right-left leather soles
Clip clopping down the lonely laneway
Into obscurity and steam.

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