If arses were elbows
Should they swap places
The problem remains
One of identification

I see it's Eazy E's birthday today
I'm reminded of that biopic
The bit about his
Final moments
I remember
In the picture house
His hospital bed
Harshly lit
Puts you back
In all them rooms
With all them beeps
And all them drips.

Someone once called it
Tupperware weather
Wherein
The island
Seems To have been covered
By a gigantic inverted
Semi opaque
Plastic food bowl
It's like that today
Grey Sunday swirl
No rain yet
But it's coming
The leave's rustle
Becomes a humming
The bird's chirps
Take on
A concerned tone
From bright enquiries
To scared entreaties
Periods of calm
So fleeting
As vortices
Darkly form beneath
The dome.

Take yer coat off
You won't
Feel the benefit
I was told many times
As a kid
Wonder if that's true
We do an experiment
In terms of
Trapped layers
Of heat.

Ice cold water
Hitting
The driest of throats
Keep it coming
Filled with dread
For when it will
Run out.

Crook and flail
Guide and whip
The ancients
More up front
With it
Move the herd
To greener pastures
Or whip em hard
To avoid disaster
Some saw the flail
Symbolic
Of fertile land
Whatever you say
We quite understand.

Infinite complacency
Unchecked technology
What needs to be
Is what will be
Aerial warfare
To the fore
He died
A year after Hiroshima
Must have broke his heart
To be so right.