If we don’t move, no one will
see us. The air-con will help us
to lean forward, help us to make
headway. Regular news updates
from dozens of flat screens
could save us from our musing as
blow-dryer music in the hi-fi section
warms the backs of our necks.
If we stand anaesthetised by the
cleaning lady’s spray gun,
dressed in the latest, we might blend in,
and late at night, when we’re blind,
security guards will make love to us,
though only with their torches.
In the corners of the ceiling, next
to the cameras, gleaming silver vents
will inhale our carbon dioxide, while
the vents along the skirting boards
exhale, to keep it circulating, this
air we breathe on condition.
(published in FourW, 2011)