Carrion, carry on

 

There is a small bread-eating machine

which shits acid

over the former Co-op department store.

Considering the damage

done by the tenants inside,

this isn’t a parasite.

Chesty sonar bleeps

are better than the smell of skunk,

fag butts galore.

Pigeon messages are still to be cherished

in this land of fanciers turned felons.

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