201708151654 - an original poem

This city is my mirror,
      the cool air that blows in off the ocean:
It is uncomfortable, the noise
      the motorbikes the shouts on the street
Jarring with my learnt aesthetic

I withdraw into quiescence
      short occasional poems jagged
Syntax like a 125cc
      rushing past down below afternoon
Something phatic for the boys

There is no African heat
      lazy city August relaxing
But my caffeine buzz
      neighbours somewhere drumming the release
Of my broken verse