Jehtro Tull

Crash-Barrier Waltzer



And here slip I --- dragging one foot in the gutter ---
  in the midnight echo of the shop that sells cheap
  radios.
And there sits she --- no bed, no bread, no butter ---
  on a double yellow line --- where she can park anytime.
Old Lady Grey; crash-barrier waltzer ---
  some only son"s mother. Baker Street casualty.
Oh, Mr. Policeman --- blue shirt ballet master.
Feet in sticking plaster ---
  move the old lady on.
Strange pas-de-deux ---
  his Romeo to her Juliet.
Her sleeping draught, his poisoned regret.
No drunken bums allowed to sleep here in the
  crowded emptiness.
Oh officer, let me send her to a cheap hotel ---
  I"ll pay the bill and make her well - like hell you
  bloody will!
No do-good over kill. We must teach them
  to be still more independent.