My Only Fun Poem by Margaret Alice Second

I'm privileged, don't have any real problems, sitting
in a dim office as the lights cause more heat where
air-con doesn't work & with a dim computer screen,
complaining about a bus not arriving while trying to
type long numeric lists - but time is standing still &
colleagues come and go: I know how lucky I am to

Be healthy and reasonably sane, passably rational
& to have almost enough common sense - so why
am I so dissatisfied? Ah, the answer is eating pop-
corn and butter chicken, being allergic those foods
put my brain out of whack and now I ama wreck
and the damage is in my head, my mind's a blank

My only fun is to visualise Judge Judy on TV with
a semi-automatic machine gun; when those idiots
lie and claim they have no responsibility - I would
don Judge Judy's garb and open fire on all those
who refuse to admit truth and wrong-doing; and I
imagine being Father Brown sweetly extracting a

Long knife from my cassock to strike down every
hostile policeman & bishop who dare to call me a
meddling sleuth who must stay out of every crime
scene in the TV series - I see myself pedalling to
charge down the street on Father Brown's bicycle
leaving just a lightning streak - but no, here I am

List waiting to appear on my computer screen and
popcorn stuck between my teeth - -boredom is the
word to define this moment in time-privileged I am
but a better way to be, is living a short but exciting
life, this long drawn-out repetitive routine is such a
bore today…