The marker: Bruce Lee happy snapping
Opposite Trajan’s stables.
Not up to scratch, we replace
Dostoyevsky with an app
And clap enthusiastically
At the dud soundtrack’s tub.

When the Premier dished out
Shit sandwiches in the Executive
She called them pineapples.
They swapped ironic gifts
Post-catastrophe.
Now: giant, projected,
They hew faces
Like burns.

Of course I’m obtuse.
Civilisation is all about
Me not telling you what I really think.

Creativity’s industry,
A one-inch punch we’re not set for.

And if we were?
Who am I kidding? It’s Bruce Lee.

Liam Ferney