Cheltenham: CHS Facade edition with preface

#193
Why, as I climb Old York Road,
the bridge is a foreboding one—
thousands here hurled from
pitiless heights, as was decided
each time by casual stooges,
whose own eventual, catastrophic
deaths were not faced by
themselves or anyone else:
Kabuki puppet deaths, Old York Road
another puppet stage.
Past midnight, into the early
morning: nothing for you to paint
here. Just that sense, from
the front seat of an old Volkswagon,
of what worlds can never change
for people like us. What soothes
& slays is the same thing:
things in real life get stuck,
for better or worse, & peace
is all in being willing to stick, too. Right?
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