Suburban Rhapsody
(inspired by...)

When the regular lace curtains sweep
Down upon our faces in a
Sweet toffee-apple breeze,
We laugh at it with all the
Brilliant flash-in-the-pan,
Jokes about your life span long
Before it ended, and
How you never met a-one
Sane in an insane-abound land.

Romance these days thrives where
Closeted darkness is your prey and
Like vanity, you'd sooner spit on
Pavements, than say the word.
And when it happens, one triangle
Will always poke painful, with its
Corners and degrees, when blurred.
The streets I pass only for college are
Imprinted on the soles now.

And despite the metaphysics on TV,
If it were more direct in one sense
I would for once proclaim
The glass isn't half-empty.
Where you know that this is wrong, no
Locker-story would bring all down to
This level (or that storey). Yet one
Is upright this side of the looking-glass,
Parallel in one city where
Nothing quite holds fast.