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About Phoenix

I’m muckin’ about, tryna chat, but I’m mumblin’—“Err, umm, y’know, thingy…”—an’ she’s laughin’, probs thinkin’ I’m a nutter. Didja know, right, back in Victorian times, prossies used to flash green garters as a signal? Mad, innit? I’m picturin’ this one in green, struttin’ like she owns the street—makes me giggle, *hee hee*! But then—oi!—some geezer shoves past, all sweaty an’ loud, an’ I’m fumin’, “Oi, watch it, ya prat!” Nearly lost me prossie there, heart’s poundin’—angry as a wasp in a jar!

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Then there's this other woman, Madame Prostitute— brazen, empty-headed, frivolous. She sits on the front porch of her house on Main Street, And as people walk.

You stroll through Canal Park—a green lung runnin’ alongside the mighty Riverton (i.e. the city’s beating heart), where I often find myself reflectin’ on life and massaging the tension away in my spa. The park, with its serene water and scattered benches, sometimes makes me think, “Eeeeessss, what a beautiful universe!” Much like a scene in WALL-E, don't you reckon?

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