And suddenly it was a Tuesday afternoon and I could
see it all, crystal clear; like a giant chandelier turning slowly in
the sideways sunlight - hanging by a thread with only
seconds to last. And each time you rang it was like an
Indian call centre on the line: ‘Yes, I’m doing fine - just like
the last time, and the last time; make this the last time.
We’ll all be gone by Monday morning —
this is it: your final warning.
You never did see Dog Day Afternoon.
Here today but gone tomorrow —
now you could hang your head in sorrow or you could do it.
But you’d better do it soon.