17

17

17

because
we have heard the future and it
sounds like houseflies
murdering all competitors
in a beta version
of How Clean Is Your House
and then reproducing themselves
as world leaders.
Would you rather hose down
yesterday with a stiff chemical
or scrub up tomorrow
with your raw eyelashes?
What shall we do
with our ticking stash
of ambition? Blow it up
like the bloated men
who manufactured this whole scenario
in their dreams of being
less boring. Even in their sleep
they are vigorously
scouring our passages. While tomorrow
doesn’t amount to much
(until lined up in cross hairs
inside a zoom lens)
our USP is we always clean tomorrow
blindfolded – then, for every hour
after dark, we add another
protective layer – by tomorrow,
we’re BIG on cushioning.
Energy levels are low
in the early stages
but the system needs exploding
because the PR around
just-getting-by
is not EXCITING and the Prime Minister
won’t pass away, tragically,
the chance to apply
an exfoliating mitt
to a hi-stakes battleground
in your sitting room
where the winner
is the party with the greatest feel
for tragedy which makes everything go
UP
especially numbers
of voters and corpses flying machines blood pressure eyebrows high-pitch drones high-security fences
drug-use incredulity pizza-sales police-presence mistrust top shelf one arm I am reaching for the Dettox