An Aladdin’s cave of optics

A Poem

By Chris Tait

Filter in with blemished tickets
Serve and spray nectar in buckets
Drinking like swallowing swords
Cursing with heathen words
Zombies fire breathing poison
Three spirits give predictions

An Aladdin’s cave of optics
Fumes and toxins are so septic
People touch and nip like crabs
Debts tally up on tabs

Night clubs like rabbit holes
Three-legged dance moves with moles
Slimy bunkers underground
Where tramp motley crews hound
Like they are dragged to the dog pound

Box and barrel pyramids
Pubs are laid out in town’s grids
Tins with misfitting lids
Ordering drinks is doing bids

The building is slow to recover
People are quarantined hungover