Harris Park

Stevie’s life thanks to mum, and none of this was possible

Contradictory, and no sympathy for the bored,

Centered on drugs yearned for, and scored

A kind of life simple folk like us mull over as unlikely

Us common folk, stitched up for an out of body treat

On a Friday night, a rock ’n roll night, two steps to a beat.

Girls scream, and want to be inside the front man’s charm

He’s inside for a while until she says she loves him

Playing the fool he laughs; shoots and leaves for another 

A girl or drug, whatever, whatever.

That’s the high, a sky-high high, straight through portals of the self

Like he’s lying on a cherished lake of soothing aloe vera

Naked, sexless, mouth to his mother’s nipple

Drawing, breathing, sighing, safe and careless, cradled like a babe

Smack and gash and alcohol, Stevie’s had it all.

We divorce Stevie and I, when the concert’s at an end

He’s got a girl, when I believed he was my better friend

But I live in Harris Park, and that would be impossible

And all this attention, bestowed upon one who could entertain

Like a god who pleased, with a turn of a crazy, wildly head

With his smile and charm and levitating power

That swaps a lonely hour for thrill.