"Experience the rush
of motoring adrenaline"
I have spread the morning paper
Across my desk
And she is calling to me
The new Mercedes
Her sleek curves clean
Moving between
A heaving mountain range
This is my road
Through the valley
No traffic
The bitumen shaven clean
I sip my coffee
And click my morning pen
Between my teeth
I am one more promotion
Away from this motoring adrenaline
The Lincoln Park No skating signs
Have been defaced again
Bring me the dossier, Katie
And more coffee, with a twirl
The counts of loitering:
They gather, you know
In their hoodies and flannelette
All foul mouthed and music
And making out in garden beds
And laughing raucous 2am
The counts of vandalism:
The trucks of their boards
Scuff the chiselled corners
Of the borders we made
For the flowers we gave
To the soil we brought
In to replace that native clay
The rumble and the grinding
Is disturbing our cement
The counts of noise pollution
And this rampant inhibition of youth
Send in the Bob Cats
I want temporary fences
And all smooth surfaces
Ravaged and remained in place
As a warning
And I want photos for the meeting
A government loves
The sight of rubble
And a flurry of rebuilding
Get me the list of diggers, Katie
Today my blood is up
And I can almost smell the valley
© Brendan Bonsack
April 2016