Even dirty roads

Down the hill faster than a flicker in the rearview.
Unknown passengers in the back. Round the curb as midday claps.
The decent streets all one way, became a labyrinth to me.

Big black signs and cul-de-sac verges. A distant highway laughing and surging.
So I left my vehicle and disappeared. Darkness came to me along the estuary river.
A young woman sold her body outside a shack, half drunk, half diseased jumping with fleas along the river at night. Yellow lamp light revealed the stains.
Her friends face half burnt, still smiled and told tales of her hometown, while my presense scared the clientele.
Those women sang to me in the mud and the shadows about the prison that is life.
Hard as I fought, shame was hard to kill. I have been the spinner at the wheel.
I have once stood a hand holding the throwing stone. I have been the deciever and his web, the lamenter and his cries. Would I pretend to be better? Judging and condemning others must too have it´s price.
The conman, dealer, whore, the lord of the flies!
The mud and the shadows and tributes to a life of lies.
Even dirty roads can be cleaned, can be paved again and lead back to redemption.