When I found myself in times of trouble Mother Mary leaped from me (or the importance of finding new gods)

Mister and Ms. Computer
Scientists, grant me this.

Program me, virtually,
a plump-sweet, pretty world.

Don’t play with tricky words,
but the truer noughts and ones

you’re accustomed to,
to two-tone its bitsy pi

of peach and sugar-plum sky,
its rump of gingerbread

beach buttered up against
a rum soaked sea. Let it be.

Oh, let it be, holy geeks,
there my brain, over-stuffed with

thick-milk worries for this world
soured by off-the-shelf warming

and war, gets dumped. Crumpled
skin and bone can be left

behind. Where? Wherever
I won’t really care.