feel the ricochet of piss, the people of St Pauli having
moved on from Lennon peeing freely from his home-
away-from-home balcony in the early hours of morning.
People power and paint technology, citizens have daubed
their desperate revenge on walls and wait for the backlash.
A reveller, stoked on booze, disembarks from a club,
cock almost already in grip and sizing up his territory -
a dog too animal and sozzled to think of others when
relief is at hand. It is the shower upon shower that even
then won’t soak through, a reality in the heat of this
moment he cannot comprehend, and payback is never
more emptied than this, or the slow return on the loss of
self, life as a loan, rising damp on walls no longer home.
[source]
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