Wandering the Streets of Fitzrovia
by Jerry Ratch
I'm deathly afraid of the pub crawls
of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia
because of the ghosts of alcohol already
etched inside my veins
and the headlong loss of oxygen and thought
down the winding escalator of generations
who've been drunken there
and had their heads knocked about
longing for extinction
after the heavy crawl up from the slime
and watering hole of the imagination
before time and the beginning of time even began
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"and the headlong loss of oxygen and thought
down the winding escalator of generations" ***
Surprising, effective imagery. The cadence carries me along, as well. *
What Mr. P. said.
*
"because of the ghosts of alcohol already etched inside my veins"
*
Is a pub crawl crawling on hand and knees in or out? I've don't that a few times. *
I am deathly mortified by the pub crawls of my youth.
Enjoyed.
Lxx
I like the poem. Couldn't help but see a revised 2001 watering hole and monolith.
We have our inheritance.