Baggy-Eyed City

You can smell them coming from a mile away
And when you pass them, look into their eyes and
they'll reveal their tangerine galaxies and
offer you their wings as a gesture of kinship.
And you accept, for now you see what they see
have become embedded amongst the star flakes and open sewage
And experience a day in the life of an abandoned cigarette butt
dwelling amongst the dried piss and darkness of the alleys.
In the super market, a starlit-flyin-flower petal-shavin-cocoa-beef-drippin'
gypsy buys her frozen spinach and flicks her electric tongue at me,
and warns her dreads not to attack.
Amidst impenetrable clouds of heaven we meet a fellow dragon-fly-samurai
wondering from the west, here to taste the sweet exotic life of
a bohemian petal-pusher and perhaps to get a lot of porn.
And to the left, not yet returned from their radical fantastical free-lovin carousel ride,
Two pixie faeries lay sweetly glazed and intertwined,
Blissfully unaware of the shot-gun penalties there used to be.