DRAGONS BY THE DUSTBINS

There were dragons by the dustbins,
big bastards,
with huge flappy wings,
endless snouts

I asked them what they were doing
they looked sheepish
refused to engage me in conversation

Their iridescent bodies
gleamed in the morning sun
like the memory of a glorious dawn

'If you don't go away
I'll be obliged to call the Police'
I said, in a schoolmasterly voice

'Don't do that' replied one of the dragons
at last showing some sort of engagement
'We're just hanging around
we don't mean any harm'

'I've heard that before', said I,
looking them in the eyes,
those immense beady planets
engulfed in mystery and mythology
'if only it were true'

I saw six thousand years flash by,
I heard the cry of battle
the crack of skulls
I saw cities rise and fall
gazed on unimagined civilisations

It is hard to concentrate when talking to dragons
but I pulled myself together,
'Look, scram will ya!
This is a respectable neighbourhood.
Go on off with ya'

They didn't argue
spitting small flames
they rose
and soared off into the sky
like clumsy jets