JULU-LU

Julu-lu: ancient, brand new. 

The world and its aunty 

understands just what 

you're there to do. 

Women with crabby hands 

hawk knock-off cigarette brands 

and bawdy little lighters 

where the flame shoots out of his glans. 

Old Mao waves from a hooky timepiece. 

The barbecue smells of paraffin, 

the gin is water, her lips thin. 

And you may not have to wine her, 

and you may not have to dine her, 

but it's hardly a case of swiping 

a credit card down her vagina. 

Drunkenness, it mitigates 

almost anything, I have found. 

But don't forget your decency 

or your time will come around. 

Julu-lu: ancient, brand new. 

The world and its aunty 

understands just what 

you're there to do.