Another heatwave, the plumber pauses for prayer

then (like us all) back to roots & excrement.

Three canny Buddhists next door

wave their golden cat,

as if it was astronomy.
Deities should never be an inconvenience, the

bell-ringers & muezzins must learn to mime –

it will repay the seabreeze & allow killers to doze.
Roofing bubbles,

our explorers think it’s coffee.

There’s more nutrition in asphalt

than all the doctrines of the smug.
Leaves are smoking,

my editor has a test kit: decides

this bad acid is not etching.

He’s rolled my linebreaks & disappeared

before I could sell them to schoolkids.
Because I am bad though

inconsequentially so. Sentimental over the 70’s while

approaching my 70’s…

I am clumsy with numbers.
Every education left me dumber,

the maths master hurled chalk about the room

like the Sprinkler of Doom.

I can’t remember my best friend’s name

though his crimes are obvious.

My deceits have all met the tumbril.
On this toss on off day I realise

all that training done

when I only wanted to mess with your head.
This city is a disaster, the country’s even worse.

We guzzle the oil our water is an infection.

Meat wanders the pasture

& knows life is a marinade.