oh
wouldn't i like to be
in 1925
when there was no
colour
when smoking was whizz
and laydees treated intercourse
as an interminable bore
and didn't dare enjoy the tawdry nonsense whatsoever

when one could dream of
something
which approximated a future
only halfway numbed
by world war won
technology not yet owning everything
and the darkest recesses of the good old world
not yet exposed to the spotlight's withering glare

when wireless fuzzle still silvered the earshot
when no-one would peach on a fellow
when i still might have followed the yellowbrick road
when the bird might have flown from
the cage of my heart