Pop Tarts

Peroxide flavoured
pop tarts
daren’t speak to each other
for fear of cracking
their make up.

Nearly new
fairy lights
condescend their plump mate
with a tone of
opaque friendliness.

If I had one wish
I’d give them all
uncontrollable flatulence-
then quickly alight at the next stop.

Civic

Cold custard comforts
Ill advised concrete clutterings
Wrapped saplings in tarmac bandages
Whistle down my steel shutters
Please dispose of your chipforks
carefully
Never look up
The clouds are out of bounds