Albany Road in surround sound;
it rattles in my right ear
and rolls from my left.
Raindrops drip, cultivate, drip
from these lobes.
My gait veers from puddles.
Childish grenades explode
on the surfaces
of wet brick, stone and metal.
And they land on me,
bulbs of nectar arrowing my eyes,
the sugar sticking my trousers
to my thighs, sleeves to arms.
With eyes blinking back rain,
I dodge landminds to Mike's.
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