Humming along with the air-con is a poem about society and a reflection on how we define people by their problems instead of their beauty.
Humming along with the air-con – a poem about society
Do you sometimes wake up in the middle of the day and think that you're nothing but a cause a bark to muzzle, an outbreak of pimples and zits a skin to larder yellow-pack cream ON a mouth to throw money AT if only you'd ever shut your gob? Are you a child throwing yet another tantrum spewing toys out of a three-wheeled pram mother walking her sunglasses and heels headlining the city crimson lipgloss and blush never smudge on the farm why don't you just die down? Under the table you wriggle out of the tapering straps go draw a picture of Moses snug in his basket floating down the river or go banging empty cans of beans with the one straw you clutched at the drive-through when your shirt was wet against the car seat and all you could do was hum along with the air-con except you've never sat in a 4x4 but you know how to make and do like turning phrases into flowers or screening the perfume of a lilac bush in May when the chicks dare plunge and you know you're one of them. No one ever bothers checking the henhouse for golden eggs or downing a head on a pillow stuffed with your downs.
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