“Vive la Crew

Julian Drew~drew flying babies~flight goggled in leather helmeted free fall.

Silhouettes swooping through solid blue yonder.

Childless~he couldn’t tell a foetal heartbeat from wallpaper.

Born before screens were installed~wall to wall~a pre-Raphael dinosaur.

Serenely soporific~he reclines like a deck chair~sipping sourly on his whiskey soda

a gnat’s whisker away from extinction.

Weekdays Michelle MaBelle whores and scores smack up in town.

A good time given in exchange for brown bubbling spoon rocks

She’s fallen prey to dismay on alternate weekends.

Thus depression’s a thing~giving head to so many bellends

Injecting caustic humour~direly needed~into the endless suburban ennui.

Two ex~King’s Road~aged hippie~pot roasted smack heads

so laid back they make paisley slippers look exciting, racy, comfortable, Hip!

They live in the basement~bohemian adjacent~to Unseen Auntie~who dwells in the attic

Of a late victorian townhouse~all dry rot and quietly weeping~mildew reminders.

Uncle Derek thinks he knows Kung Fu~brags about it

Down the boozer to any poor loser~who’ll sit still long enough to listen

How he beat up three fellas making mincemeat of his car one night.

Loves to twiddle his gingerbread moustaches~gleefully recounting

his proletarian~fisticuff prowess.

Bit of a git really~but a hit with the girls~or so he tells it.

His car’s pretty poncy~all throb and no heart~know what I mean?

The kind that comes with a manual and a penis extension.

Ditto Derek.

The residence (ffs) overlooks a pebble strewn strand.

A bandstand and a decomposing Martello tower.

Which has seen better days~since Napoleon declined

to invade a nation of shopkeepers.

Grimacing grey~it stands sentry duty~outside the window.

Nodding solemnly at passersby~coughing up daybreak.

Alas a good peek at it costs a crick in the neck

and requires a black belt~in yogurt~and yoga

In committee~as a point of order~they like to partake in particular

afternoon Tealeaf Darjeeling~mashed up with mushies~an altogether uplifting brew.

Rhapsodic bone china teapot~pinkies correctly half~cocked

haute qualité~like royalty~out on the balcony awaiting Monsieur Guillotine

“I say old cock~I spy the universe~is that your octopus~she’s a belter ain’t she?

I see she has the same trouble with trousers~as I do

Too many legs and not enough outlets~Outstanding!”

Snorting speed keeps them tickety-boo~chewing their way~through the wee small hours

coming down~decompressed mess~liquidation~fire sale reduction

Whizzing the kitchen~possessed greyhounds on heat~chasing imaginary pigeons.

Ergo we finds them cleaning Kalashnikovs at four in the morning predawn~revolutionary~hose down .

Auntie Unseen materialises bearing baked goods~on the cadge~for spare ammo.

She brings her cat Ché~and her Union Jack pillow~they play roulette russe~naked and blindfold.

Click! spin~pass the molotov gin cocktail~Petrushka ya ya

petroleum flash bang~”mind the bleedin’ windows!~I just cleaned them, this morning!”

she laughs at a pair of pin striped flannelette knickers~being shredded for fuse.

Pink~lace edged~knee high kickers

gusseted in baby boy blue.

“Vive la fuckin Révolution!” she croons~

cackling her false teeth across the room

“Vive la Crone!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Photo by Josh Cea on Unsplash