“Run” they say, “Run like the wind!” But me?
Oh I ran like the scan-blips on Bob’s ventilating brain. Over hill.
Over dale. On this artificial stem-cell planet.
Lush lovely work these wildernesses I must say. But what of these?!
When there’s three unspeakable louts behind me seeking amusement. As if!
I feel like a space brigand on an anti-gravity racecourse. Oh look!
A banyan tree grown from a relic in Ancient India. It has curry flavour.
If I circumambulate it I’ll lose these louts. Oh no.
They’re still behind me panting their tongues out. Oh look!
White Maxwell flowers reverse-engineered from cardboard coffee cups. I’ll be back for those.
Sip the flowers and smell the Maxwell they say, I know. Let’s cross the laguna.
It’s a hydrogen cocktail from polite society. Wait, I hate water, here come the louts.
I’m getting tired. I’ll take a u-turn, climb the banyan and call Bob.
Oh Maxwell flowers on my tail! Cast these mongrels off my trail!
Here comes Bob (he’s old-fashioned) with Browning automatic. Oh! Oh! Oh!
I can’t stand this country western! Beam me home!
Fatima Lasay, San Roque
Monday, February 17, 2014