A can of worms
Man, you are a blast from the past....
Wait, Wait, don’t tell me...
Let me see if I can remember correctly;
I remember a young talented DJ, rocking the city with massive street parties,
A newly divorced woman,
Her restaurant crumbling under her feet.
I remember people running out of the city at night
wearing gas masks.
Man, could this really have been my life?
From the safety of the green hills,
it all seems like a surrealistic dream.
I remember a long hot shower,
A steaming bath,
Both of us hardly fit in it,
your legs are too long.
I remember a man and a woman
doing things that are still illegal in some southern states
between consenting adults.
Are you still a DJ?
When did you join Facebook?
Disclosure:
For most of my life I have been ashamed of my frivolous past,
Sweeping under the carpet what I did not want to look at.
Inspired by my newly appointed Wellington god (Graeme Tuckett)
who posted:
“Anything that is too big to sweep under the carpet, will have to be accepted as furniture”- I am finally opening this can of worms.
Like they do in part of Asia, I am eating these worms one by one...
