french ken knows where it aint

somebody who once knew you

bought the pad of the week

in the deal of the century

it was just a hop, step and a tram down st kilda rd

in a lovely park

a large open space

but not any park on st kilda boulevard that you know

i went to check it out

this abode to be

it was once only a cave or a cavern and white all around

white as the fabled city of Minas Tirith

but nowhere near as presumptuous

but the lady that scored it

in some shady undercloak dealings

found a hitherto undiscovered handyperson skills

with only a blowtorch

she turned this caverna arrangement

into a 2 or 3ish bedroom pad

perhaps it was a study

or perhaps it was just walls of clothes

ones a child could disappear into

or a studio

it seemed to morph before thine very eyes

with said blowtorch

she created cathedral white ceilings

a living room

some rather skinny doors

but the masterblaster bedroom kept an odd feature

a perilous looking circular spike of a stump of the wisp

'might have to do something about that later'

the natural light was coming from skylights which were just glass rectangles amidst the lush green grass

of home

i did wonder out loud

but what about the hooligans?

might they not break or defecate on the windows?

a fence would be impractical

this is a public park after all

and somebodies would be sharing this marvellous adobe abode with a fine upstanding chap

who goes by the name of French Ken

No friend of mine

No acquaintance of of Killer

but apparently he's all the rage

they assured us he's not related to Sad Ken

who never won that race

French Ken may well become a pivotal character in this unfolding unreal world...