Seventeen And A Hundred Years Old - Poem by Martin O'Neill
November rains wash the dreams down the drain
And a rainbow lies bleeding in the street
Where it gets splashed by car tyres to the edge
And on to red shoes on a young girl's feet.
'Damn! ' she says 'Diesel always stains like hell,
Yeah, but no-one will notice in the dark.'
And as a limousine pulls to a halt
It's time for her to step up to the mark.
Seventeen years or a hundred and two
A thousand years from her eyes to her soul.
A window rolls down, a bargain is struck
This one looks loaded, she feels on a roll..
The radio hawks and spits in the night
The lights on the squad car paint the crowd
Gazing at a broken bargain - red shoes,
And beyond them, a green tarpaulin shroud.
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