What I love about global warming is the flamingo
sunsets that flap their wings but don’t fly south for winter.
What I hate about global warming is that air hostess
with an orange can tan and a wonky French manicure.
Everything, all of this mess, including the rings of landfill
that circle every village you can see from the train in Morocco
is her fault. The way her nose crinkles like an empty crisp packet.
If that lady has a flavour it’s prawn cocktail.
She used to be as bendy as Malibu Barbie. Now she creaks
like a seat in economy class. None of this is really her fault
but there has to be somebody to hang the blame on.
And if I’m not going to get upgraded to a place where
nothing really matters because now I’ve got much more legroom
then it might as well be her. After all she is a woman. I say

let’s blame it on the burgers because
All that rumination .
Such is the stink fruit of our insatiable worst. Would a Big
‘N’ Tasty Whopper with Cheese, Bacon and Buffalo Sauce ™
smell so sweet under any other name? Oh, let Our Lady
cast off the knee-length hemline of her peach nylon pencil skirt,
and burst out of the cockpit in her super short pants, magnificent
as a one-breasted Amazon with milk to suckle the world.
And the world will guzzle and spit
What I love about global warming is the anthemWhat I hate about global warming
is the palm trees, those flamingo sunsets that flap their wings
yet fail to cool the earth, while we fly south for winter.