Dry Comfort

This suspicious air that we breathe
Stories half heard.
Made crueler in their retelling.
No I was not there, nor were you, but…
Drawing out hair from cues at the cinema
This could be your killer, the bomber, the rapist.
His eyes, his clothes and his face give it all away.
He’s the one to blame for the lack of food on your table
He’s the one who got what you wanted.
I don’t believe in anything that is not mine. Mine is everything that is yours.
Loudspeakers shout at passers-by.

“Buy, Buy,Buy,”
“Beware”
“Grab”
“Shine”
“Bounce”
“Fly”
“King”
“Queen”

Dulled with this longing for better skin, a better body, life after death.
Hoping for self-help. I hate.
The monk who sold his car – how much was it worth?
And what did he do with the money?
We know nothing of each other. I’ve never been to your home.
Do you live in a green palace? Saffron scares you?
On this side we speak correctly.
Except when caught at a bad time.
“Those people are strange. Yes I know I might sound wrong but really they are”
It is entirely your fault this crazy world. Who started it? Who should end it?

Evaporate.
Mushroom cloud for us all.
Honor.
Lesson.
Enslave.
Justice.
Divine.
Kill.
Consume.
Faith.
Blind.

At birth I could not see. I learnt to touch, then speak and then walk.
Then they said don’t cross that line.

Yours.
Mine.
Together.
Apart.
Distance.
Boundary
Walls.

Can be broken.