we get down,down,down,
on a daily basis,
with a frown,frown,frown,
midlife crisis?
the plates don’t wash themselves,
slow food needs care,
and slicing and dicing down,
and the veg peel needs to be separated,
from the plastic wrapping,

recycling and helping the world,
and we take our many bags,
down, down, down town,
as recycling is not door to door,
every time we wash plastic,
and rinse away the milk,
we cannot throw away dirty tins,
we cannot intoxicate our plastic bins,
we don’t want to go down that road,
and down in the underground,
we have all paid our taxes,
to build this modern network downtown,
and when it pours down,
yes when it rains it pours,
the new expensive underground,
is like an arm with pores,
it rains down there,
trains, yes the trains,
but that is not all down there,
it even rains in the trains,
in Rome there are no drains,
every time a storm says hello,
Rome becomes like Venice,
a bloody big open sewer,
the smell is worse than manure,
all the grates are full of leaves,
and rats and old politicians,
nothing will get down there,
don’t come to Rome if you want to live,
don’t come to Rome at all,
you will be robbed on every corner,
and that is just the hotels,taxis and restaurants,
and if you do have any money left,
don’t worry the pickpockets will clean you out,
Rome is a no mans land,
the police are too busy drinking coffee,
down there in deepest, darkest Rome,
they are too busy directing traffic,
we love going down to Rome,
we just have to be careful where to go,
we go to restaurants run by our friends,
we don’t use taxis unless it is Paolo,
we love going down to see history,
the way the city is, such a pity,
going down in flames, just like ancient times,
nothing has changed,
nothing will,
they will steal from you,
and they want tourism to flourish,
I know flowers grow quicker in shit,
but when the shit is poisoned,
everything dies down,

©Darren Hobson October 2014