pure durum
lately I seem to be
always driving from
or to funerals
teenagers farting in the back
oldies in the front
hanging out
for a cup of tea
and profiteroles
I want to switch on the radio but
instead we reminisce
about the recently
deceased
in our heads we
reverse
the video
of their lives
all that spaghetti
uncurling
stiffening in the pot
slipping
back into cellophane packets
sealed
placed in the cupboard
the supermarket bag
the warehouse truck
factory silo field
pure durum wheat
soil rain oxygen
sunlight
drenching down on an
Australian plain
don’t get me wrong
I don’t resile
from the complexity of life
I’m sure everything’s
multifactorial
hypertextual
and full of broken links
but it’s nice to think
as in their end
so their beginning
why can’t I
be like that?