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Truthfully I’d still be sitting at the patio table while
feasting a nibble-fest of fabulous prawn crackers,
all-but braving a manically orchestrated invasion
of mozzies & midges - now tenaciously engaged
in their version of random blood-sampling - but -
The truth is I have been damaged to the roots of
my flakey genetic inheritance by their Ross River
virus’s definition of what I’m able t’ endure t’ stay
sane - & flee where insect deterrents are trained
on their arcane susceptibilities inside the house
It’s a feature of the way things are these days; &
while blaming no-one for telling me, I wont spray
myself with deet allover as it seems I’m giving in
to the insect hegemony’s easy victim definitions -
and while the virus’s residue remains extant, I’m
In no way free to debate th’ wisdom of their cant
on who’s the guilty party; you’ve no resistance’s
their defence - which in truth is a doozy. So its a
stalemate. But I’m damned if I’ll play by th’ rules
they nominate as fair and reasonable - they all
Resonate of sub-cliques too far removed from a
reality we used to co-habit in a benign, although
probably misguided, peacefulness. But today its
a zone per say not contained within th’ confines
of what we once believed a neutral patio
© 5 April 2017, I. D. Carswell
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