Historical accuracy

Historical accuracy

Harmless wholesome
family entertainment-

watch Adolf, Eva et al
play happy families their
last few days in the bunker

(a wonder reality TV
hasn’t latched onto this:

“the city’s being blown
to smithereens outside!
cyanide capsules optional!”)

I was dubious, but
the lads said it was
“educational”

(they said that about
Mr Gibson’s religio-porn,
but never mind)

Cinema. the boho crowd,
at pains to see something ‘serious’.

Ice creams are bypassed;
no one thinks they’re
appropriate

I fidget in my seat as
the lights die-

why exactly am I
here again?

We’re halfway through
when Ru displays
the signs-

pale, focused on the
one moment, a
disinclination to be
touched

(always painful when
I reach for her and she
swats me off)-

she hasn’t eaten, but
primarily the lampshade
sets her off.

“Rache, that’s made
of skin”-

a bloody awful woman,
swollen, mottled like
a Hurst magnum opus,
tells her ssh.

Ru’s in her next phase,
where she believes she’s
surrounded by idiots

(in this case it’s true)

I take her arm-
starting to twitch- and
steer her to the door.

She’s nearly in tears.

“Did you see?”-

yes, I’d noticed the
grisly exhibit; hoped
she hadn’t.

“Can you believe?”-

no, I thought that woman
was a moronic bitch too.

“When”-

she’s near shut down,
not making sense-
I must find her food, fast

We zone in on the
Golden Arches, that
stop on the coronary
motorway.

Chip after greasy
chip, she regains
a sense of self

says historical accuracy
is all very well, but
what about sensibility?

I agree although
hell doesn’t exist,
Hitler deserves one
just for him.

Some subjects are
too close to the bone.