on pigme island

my fockin' teabags

hanging out drying

in the wind

shyted on by

the side of

a dimly lit

snooker hall is

easy to miss

the discarded gum

sole sticking gummily

with gummy gumminess

a powerful force

on pavement upkeep

and cheap sandals

that melt when

walking, Walking Street

during nefarious activities

is very hard

to avoid strange

looking ugly people

when searching wildly

you forget to

take care looking

over your shoulder

for dodgy characters

intent on seducing

wining and dining

the local talent

(How come Clint's back on the scene?)

were at sixes