crisis before coffee

Dog walk to another crack cocaine seizure. Men gambling as if riches were dollars, an escape. The person meditating on the tree stump, swirling torso round, some call crazy.  An obsessed women makes sure the fence connections are stapled, secured, locking people out of the greenest grassiest part. Because amongst it all, how dare the dog parents take their dog to the park.  Sure enough she calls the cops.  Not the medics for the woman thrashing in the air, pants down yards away from the human smelling poop not picked up.  No doggy bag around.

Flipping bills so that they too can feel famous. Women in lopsided wigs peer in.

Good morning.

Hottest day becomes sweltering. It’s not just London’s tarmac that melted, my heart is frozen in the time we don’t have left.  To which crisis do I attend.  It’s then that another cheerfully announces going to Copenhagen. Fashion week. The 90s are back. As if her world isn’t the one I’m standing in. Then again who am I.

Painting: Acrylic on canvas