A pale green Siren
With fair skin, and the distant
Aroma of coffee beans...
Behind her, a broad,
White-bearded old man
Grinning, stares through my head...
And above, the dull hum
Of an apple, a single bite missing,
Penetrates me with its glare...
My eyes sting with tears.
It's almost like they need
To force us to be human.
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 4:44 PM UTC
A pale green Siren
With fair skin, and the distant
Aroma of coffee beans...
Behind her, a broad,
White-bearded old man
Grinning, stares through my head...
And above, the dull hum
Of an apple, a single bite missing,
Penetrates me with its glare...
My eyes sting with tears.
It's almost like they need
To force us to be human.
A poem about advertising.
#30 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.
© Lewis Hyden, 2018
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