Over the rows of conventional housing
Boring in one sense though everyone has made their garden different
And overhead hangs the wild East Anglian sky
The difference is frightening to the conventional suburban person
The worst sin in suburbia is keeping rubbish in your front yard
Leaving your lawn mower out all night when it’s electric and therefore expensive and dangerous
Not having nice curtains on your front windows
And paint peeling of your front door like your skin after you’ve had chicken pox
If we could we suburban women would change the sky into a conventional drawing with lines around each cloud separating them from the others
We can put up fences against our neighbours but we can’t put one up against the sky and
We don’t mind the rainbows or even the thunderclouds occasionally but these wild blue and yellow and grey skies they make us feel uncomfortable
Why did we not build towns too match the sky?
No one ever did but we don’t know why
They remind us of the unconscious mind
Although we’ve never heard of it but we’ve tried to keep it behind a boundary behind a fence or even a Berlin wall
But in the end it defeats them all
How my heart sings 