Determinism Song

From a kneeling position,
my fists pound like hammy gavels

against the curled sewer grate
located in the north-north-west corner

of the off-leash parkette
at Whitall Way & Filamentia.

‘I've done everything you wanted’ I shout
‘so why are you doing this to me?’

All around me, porch lights open up
like idealistic focus groups.

The contents of the sewer
remain as still as they ever were.

‘Don’t encourage him’
my wife scolds the sympathetic rows

of semi-detached homes.
‘Okay, you heard her, Island’

I croak in a defeated tone,
‘do your worst.’