No one is impressed by The Godfather poster
Or your Fornasetti paper design.
Who wants to see mock Tudor beams,
Or bookshelves that heave,
In the way we now dream, with
Magic realist South American lives?
No one cares for orange wall rustic,
On screen it just hurts your eyes.
Careful presentation, modern-day fiction
Dramatises the everyday life
That we all view, sitting in judgement,
Smug spies for an hour at a time.
No one dares to seem any less than cool,
Ethnic art comes as no surprise.
What would we give for a hairdresser,
Or an over priced objet d’art store?
Who would not pay for the beach for a day,
Or some rich guys kicking a ball?
No one craves these interior glimpses
Over real live bodies and breath.
Suspended, we now zoom in on
Worlds confined to a room,
Waiting for that dash to freedom,
Desperate for the right to roam.