Upside down

Remember to wrap up warmly
there’s a real winter chill setting in

said the weatherman, cheerfully.

Seriously? He was smiling.

He must have been thinking of pumpkins

some Christmas scene with a robin

or roast chestnuts and snowmen

not burning trees and seas rising.

Watch out for the winter chill? Excuse me.

Today, people were sunbathing.

Why don’t you look out of the window?

The road is actually melting.

He pushes on like a snow plough

Wrap up warm, sure sign of winter, mind how you go …

A warning from the future

I made dinner in my 3D printer.

Molecules with no meaning

a concoction of spun nothing.

Who said it was food? They were lying.

Wanting a companion

I had a brainwave then.

I touched a screen and grandad’s ghost

came shimmering into the room.

He remembered picking blackberries
in a lane near his house.

His eyes were shining. Was he crying?

I put my hand right through him.

I could go out but why would I?

They had turned the café into an office.

Work and leisure had been abolished.

Humans were endlessly searching, sifting

vampires on treadmills

their cold eyes flickering.

Soon it would be hard to tell

who was real and who was AI.

Was I actually living?

I opened my mouth.

Ghost at the barbecue

Why do I partake of this ritual

of summer in the suburban garden?

They only see me dimly, if at all.

I hear their laughter like a faint echo.

Our two worlds exist in parallel
their indifference to me is not meant.
I am a ghost at the barbecue
we do not occupy the same element.

Later, someone may even dance
in a curious shuffle, across the patio.
It’s not supposed to be a séance.
They are in light; I am in shadow.

The succulent smell of meat roasting
may incite them to bolder deeds
these heroes of the conservatory –
to sing lustily like a rugby team

at a raucous wedding. I am Banquo.
As their spirits rise, mine is fading.
The scents and colours pass straight through me.

I raise my arm. I am disappearing.