Page Text
Homer
The topless towers on South Beach Keep their shape with a watering can That stops them crumbing in the sun. Under the overpass homeless men, Women and some children stake out Ground with cardboard and shopping carts. Armies of tourists snap the castle and stare, News crews aim and shoot the ramparts From various angles and interview The architect – a shy young man Bronzed like a Greek god with hair Involuntarily bleached by sun and sea Dirty blonde and twisted by neglect Into dreads, no Jah, no Rastafari, No mercy, mercy, me, a stone’s throw From those poor folk with no temples But the pillars that support the overpass, Under a starlit roof named after gods.
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