Hindley Street on that Fringe night.

The opening night of the Fringe in Adelaide. It is usually a big cultural event on the summer calendar of Adelaide, but Hindley st is a bit of a red light street with a culture of its own.

Step by step I swerve the cracks and grounded lying drunks.
My mind is clouded from the night. 
The stuttering pictures illuminating inside my head,
Deprive my thoughts of rhyme and rhythm.

The busker’s sound of Voodoo Child, is the air and in my mind, 
I smell the ooze of ethanol from open bars. 
Drunkard talking tongues “a coin” he begs, with hand stretched out into my path,
As Pretty girl handed stilettos, with smile she struggles by.

Persian, Greek, Italian, Asian and even French confuse the sound.
And some move fast while some move slow, in contra temp.
A cigarette I light as skateboard kids obstruct my path.
Is that Meth or is it Ice there in your glazing eyes?

Staking chairs and cleaning pipes, Jerusalem closing doors and all its lights.
Intoxicated inside they pile, convoying taxis as the night begins to die.
Which way is home? So should I too, consider catching ride?
T'is what I saw, in Hindley Street, on that Fringe night.
Patrick Sorrentino (2016)

 

Reviews

[Gee]

Sound like a place for debauchery, fun and frolics. Bit like Soho in London.Nicely written Patrick