Another April (fools’), cold sodden. Now we’re the
same as everyone else, evolving bacteria-like
to future life on Mars colony – the little
brown-suited man-woman in cardboard office
touting voucher schemes. It rains (again).
Why don’t they arrest us? Dead birds
rain from windows like Habsburg angels on yr P.O.V.
The old people in my head shaking their heads in unison:
“The last committee they sent out never came back.”
And there’s that little café Napoleon with
shit-eating grin, talking up a soap opera –
how to fire big guns at invisible welfare menace.
Of course we all must cease being content:
what good’s happiness, if it can be got for free?