it was as though moss
had grown over everything
the faces the torsos the carpets and TV
I ran around in the new green vacuum
shaking hands with anyone still alive
them foliate faces sneered back
down in the alley where the mushmen grow
the wind comes on and we start to slow
breaking wind is never straightforward
for adults in company
my old man laughed from the clocktower
heh he said fat remind them fat
is a feminist
tissue
I mean like atishoo
it was a joke about a pandemic
that no one got
he'd been waiting with it for years
but I was now in
a reality show
how now to eschew
like this he is cavalier with our safety
his pheromones fill the car
I cannot resist his crash and verve
O take me home before
I wet myself
Jesus is a rally driver
or something
who stopped for a piss
underneath a tree
in which a barn owl
was evacuating
this is why he has that white streak
down his face
in all authenticated photographs
his schoolmates still call him Streaky
though his new gang
are all icky and polite
he hates them really
but they buy him fish
to eat on the forest tracks
where he shoots owls
Jesus he whispers Jesus
there in the fucked frost
of his own south mouth
.
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