Those pigs were kind of interesting
but they haven’t actually travelled much,
have they? I mean, not in
the tourism sense. Making bacon isn’t exactly travel,
and you can’t go around the world
just in your head although experience may be gained
in all kinds of different ways although I still think
futility is futility no matter the guise. And
in our heads all the latest twitter
is about love and its attendant prejudices,
its laughable ambitions,
but before too many words are uttered never to take wing
a good long fast exhausting walk is recommended,
and a deep breath taken before plunging into the abyss
where mistakes lurk waiting to be forged
from the raw materials of
stupidity and potential. I mean,
or what I mean to say is
we don’t really have anything against anyone
or anything, but at the same time
we don’t actually like anyone
or anything either, although on reflection
mirrors contain people
we quite admire on occasion but not always, being
subject to mood swings like ordinary folk. The weeks
come and go and the visits to the abattoir
and the landfill retain their funny side
but somehow we can’t help feeling a little jaded, and
even the chicken factory seems to have
lost its allure of late. As for
tomorrow’s excursion the outlook’s predictably bleak:
I can’t look at scaffolding without thinking of
someone I’ve tried to forget out of the past
and the way they used to
irritate my head off