Civilized Atmospheres Poem by Terence Winch

The bar is filled with a foul odor, something
to do with the sewage system. People don't mind
one bit. They smoke, talk, make time, drink, dance.
We don't mind either. We like to see people having fun.
We think there should be more fun in all our lives.
And more sex and money. We want everyone to have
more power, as much power as they would like,
because we know how important power is to people.
We want everyone we know to be the boss on the job
and at home too. We want them to get what they want
because when they do, they're happy and we're happy.
We want them to have bigger and better houses and apartments.
More beautiful lovers. We want them to have lean, hard
bodies and perfect cardiovascular health.
We want their health clubs to be radiant and spotless.
We'd like to see their children turn out radiant too.
It is threatening to rain. We hate rain. We hate even more
the heavy oppressive atmosphere that precedes rain. We hate
the bad smell in the bar and we don't like the people in the bar
because they seem so pompous. Their breath is horrible
and they have pot bellies and their clothing stinks of cigarettes.
It is getting dark two hours before it should. That really makes
us mad and depresses us too. Darkness. We hate darkness
because it is so scary.

Nobody calls us anymore, so we call them
because we don't want to be left alone up here
in the dark with no one to talk to. But there's no
answer, or we get the answering machine and leave
a message, or they are there but they just can't
talk to us right now because they're too busy, or even worse,
they're expecting a more important call than ours.
It's pouring now. Thunderous skies are opening up.
Everything is wet. We hate to get wet.
We closed the windows just in time, but now
it's airless in here and we can't breathe.

We don't like work. The coming and going,
the politics, the give and take.
We can live without it. The mindless routine
day after day: the bus, the coffee break, the paperwork.
We don't want anyone to have to go to work
with those disgusting bad-smelling people
who think they're so important. Don't they know
that no one is indispensable? What about when you die?
Do they ever think of that?

We don't want to have to come home from work
in the scary wet darkness and then have to leave again
for the smelly bar where those absolutely horrible people
drink their drinks. We don't want anyone
we know to have to do it either.

We'd like everyone to stay home where it's dry and peaceful,
where they can watch movies and eat whatever they want,
sleeping in a chair, listening to the sound of a car horn,
the scary wet darkness enveloping them in its dream.