FLAMINGO PINKO

Almost anybody has seen the sea of flamingoes sweeping the salty lagoon almost in unison, their feet rippling a mirror sky, while under a thousand beaks bleakly murder millions of citizens, microscopic yet each a life;

I have heard that 'they' get their colour from the stuff the pick up down there, murder alley, blood money extracted from millions of lifes;

So, what will it 'be'? a pretty flamingo or a stinking vagrant, mingling deeply within blood money's nice little gifts each wrapped-up within a crispy clinger;

One 'manages' it all while one 'sleeps' over it all, while all dreams are slowly getting 'packaged' into tweedy birds;

All in all, a very nice aquarium, while the only exit darkly awaits the final exit, for the only light here comes out from all the unwraps strewn all over consumer alley;

Each is a 'life', each 'is' a choice of alley; for some it is simply a garden's narrow space between growing out lives, for most it simply means fashions alley, show time choir.