after Billy Collins

The TV will not stop baking.
It is baking one loaf after another
until, even without switching on,
I think the set will overheat.

The TV will not stop baking.
I pull out all the plugs
and sign up to a meat-only diet
but I can still smell celebrities,
baking, baking, baking

and now I dream I’m Beau Geste,
marching across the Sahara
with a baking tin full of dough
trying to save gas.

When the dream finally ends,
I wake up in my Foreign Legion gear,
my feet resting on a large currant loaf
and smoking a Camel.

There’s no escape.

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