Master of Con-Fusion

 eclectic mix of colors and spices
confounded with the smell of campfires
the spring is going to awaken us
I find myself in restaurants becoming 
quite the consumer
tasting all the marvels that my belly and mind
can possibly fulfill, an Epicurian without
principle to stop, to rewind and say
all this is terrible delusion.

at the close of the day
the wind settles into a quiet whisper
and walking down the winding street
i feel the knowing that like a ping-pong
my steps fade into studied rhythms
up and down left and right
leaving no trace of solid, liquid or gas
down life's busy toilets, 
the sewers of the modern city.

today I mixed all the flavours

of every country down every passage

down every lane

and down down what did I pay for it?

what did I give to obtain this precious knowledge?

no tip could possibly cover the costs.