Pigs Can’t Look Up
Well, bébé, it’s slim pickings here, just me and Lorenzo Pig
contemplating stuff like the new swimming pool
and the girls in the flat opposite who are always
in dressing gowns on their balcony smoking and we wonder why
Lorenzo can’t swim, of course or see out of windows
but he is, as you know, a splendid companion
With his footstool soul and heart of solid newspaper,
he is just exactly like a person Lovely, Italian leather Lorenzo
Sometimes, because of my vegan friend I think about
the cow that must have died to give life to Lorenzo
an unusual kind of life, to our foot-high, selectively mute, inflexible
pig-shaped companion but it’s so hard to regret Lorenzo now
he is so innocent, ginger and loveable; he’s lightweight enough
to stand on a man’s chest or be carried home up the long road
past the surplus office furniture store and the butcher’s with the sign saying
‘Pork! Try it, it’s really tasty!’ or to sit patiently on the living room rug,
taking everything in with his tiny, sewn-on eyes Last night
the TV seemed to break but I didn’t mind I thought of you
on your island with the electricity pipe under the sea and your inner resources
I gave Lorenzo a good squeeze mmm and rubbed his nose he likes that
