We’re marching towards mid-summer now.
Midsummer can be murder here,
the heatwave capital of Australia.
I can feel the heat in its loins already,
smell its sweaty armpits
hear the swagger in its step.
I’m coming, he says, like a general
on the march with his troops,
heatstrokes and bushfires,
& his meddlesome minions,
mozzies, snakes, spiders,
outcasts from Eden.
Not looking forward to this
but at least there’s the beach to go to,
the air-conditioned palaces of libraries
and shopping centres, the reverse cycle at home
and, of course, beers with the boys!
I don’t look odd enough.
That’s my problem.
I’m a little too symmetrical.
Take Tom Cruise, for instance.
I read an article once that suggested that his charisma comes
from his asymmetric face.
I do have one pupil not quite in alignment with the other when I look down a little.
But that’s it.
And anyway no one notices.
I’m showing signs of age but that’s not oddness.
I do have a scar on my left cheek which hints at a seedy past — a knife fight perhaps —– which I’m happy to go with — but sadly it’s only where a skin cancer was cut out.
I’m sure if I looked odder
I’d be in more demand.
It’s just my luck to be born symmetrical and boring.
*pic courtesy of Wiki Commons
Can someone feel like a car?
A burnt out car?
That’s how he feels at the moment.
Run down. Abandoned. Torched.
Oh, he’s bit of a drama queen, he knows
But it helps if you’re a poet.
Conveyancers, Real Estate Agents, Bank Managers
& the endless decluttering.
He always wanted to be a minimalist
So now he is.
And that countdown. Prisoners on Death Row
Must feel it.
The drama queen again.
Less than three weeks now.
He better get on with it and stop blogging!
The witch hunt has begun.
Under the viral sun
Men step over each other to confess.
They beat their breasts
Then slink out through the gate.
What punishment awaits?