Thousands of layers of ice and dirt
Millennia of prehistoric strata
What was it the green guy said?
‘I’m an onion
I got layers.’
All my hidden lust and desires
My longing looks and sequestered sighs
Buried animal want
Safely frozen . . .
And then comes this whole Global Warming
Your smile radiating down
on my ice-covered wasteland
Everything is getting all runny
Now all my yearning
And sequestered hopes
Are being tenderly exposed
A sure fire recipe for disaster . . .