Your Mind

the intricate architectural bric-a-brac of a second-world coastal town
a thousand years of colonisation and exchange
spilled like the contents of an overturned toy-chest
down the gentle hillside
from the ruined castle at its head
to the shore

the packs of feral cats at all the town’s peripheries
flicker from vicious to adorable
and back

the pandemonium of market tat arrayed above the
medieval cobbles, the cartoon Rastafari
with Cefalù on their hats and burning joints
and the postcards of tits
and all the wash of stuff I find degrading but which marks this as a space
to which by any fair definition I belong

love is very complicated
...