Crossing the line

a draft exclusive

We been sucking on that pickle, Sugar, all night, ain’t that right?
Slow trickle of brine an vinegar wine.
Choking on sour smokey cordite
curses and lies, fluttering an burning.
Pitched battles up against stitched, shuttered lips.
Words, a hail of bullets flying, yesterday’s spent valentines.

A last shot? Yeah, why the hell not. A toast!

Hey, slot another dime 
in the jukebox mine host. 
Let your spine an hips lean into mine 
on the slowmo bloody dance floor 
Say, if I’ll be your whore 
can’t you least try one more time 
pretend to be a best friend of mine.
Some crazy shit, hallelujah hit
an the sorry fake snake eyes of auld lang syne.

But I’m maudlin, no surprise
ain’t no sunshine, when all reason’s gone

To fight for no bully beef, no show, politico 
I find I ain’t so inclined 
that joe in the hole, for sure, ain’t no enemy of mine.
Could be my twin save for the colour of his skin
Same soft prayers we’ll be uttering
god spare me this night.

On the bridge I hear those red hats, scalded cats, caterwauling 
wailing sirens, rising an falling, the blind calling the blind

I gotta go now, it’s time 

Crossing the line

           ~~~~


If I understand only one thing about war it’s that the rich get richer watching poor men die.
So, why try to get under the skin of a young man escaping the draft?
I know that’s currently topical in the west, yet we’re seeing the fallout, here in SE Asia, too.
Young russians, ukrainians, israelis and palestinians hiding here where living and visas are cheap and easy to come by.

Who can blame them, not us…they only got one life to live, best spend it wisely.

With love, thanks for reading, goodnight. Sea🙏😘



Photo by Arlette Millaneri on Unsplash