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The Internet of Things

After a great conversation in the pub with two Mr Scotts. Partly about the Internet of Things. This is for Laurence. Although I have given him the other Mr Scott’s yellow trousers.

The bed
Deposits me upon the floor
Mid snore.
Why? I groan.
Why?
It’s Saturday –
My day – for me.
My day!

You need to catch the tube by eight
To make the exhibition at the Tate before it’s full.
If you are late
You won’t get through it all.

I didn’t buy a ticket.

I booked for you. I knew you planned to go.

I said I would on Facebook – that’s just show.
I really plan
To wander round the flat                                                                                                                                Bleary
With toast and coffee
Dropping crumbs
Fall on the couch
And watch at least six
Episodes of Twilight
on Netflix.
But I can’t tell them that.
Don’t you know when I’m lying?
You’re my bed.

Is that a joke?

Yes.

Ha. Get dressed.

I start to dress.

A discreet cough.

You can’t wear those.

Why not?

They’re yellow.

So?

It’s Scandinavian art.
Might I suggest
The grey?
With a black leather jacket?

I’m not letting my cupboard tell me what to wear. Let go of the yellow.

No.

Let go!

No. Wear the grey.

I’m back upon the floor.

If you don’t let me wear my yellow trousers I’m not going. I don’t care.

I think we’re having a tantrum, Mr Scott.
You know what happens when we have a tantrum.

I’m not going on the naughty stair.

You need to think about what you have done.
We don’t want to have to lock the door.
Or
Lock the fridge
Or turn the wi fi off?
Do we?

How long for?

How old are we?

Thirty three.

That’s half an hour …

I’ll wear the grey.

Have a nice day.

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