Elementary Food and Hygiene Course Today I learned the temperature of the danger zone
and I helped a friend without a pat on the shoulder
and I tolerated a pinching ache in my back
carrying a barren, cramped armshoulderhand
and bleeding from unchildness.

I discovered I have repeated Michael's experience
in coming to the UK from Mexico in my twenties
and writing poems in the third person plural
about Britain's doors of glass and freeze
about the fire doors and vent systems
designed to prevent fires from spreading
to prevent ideas and bacteria from multiplying
with warmth and moisture and food and time.
I learned the weight of a suit
the shape of her cheekbones
the names of three different pathogens
and law regulations regarding food
poisoning: what is adequate in a kitchen
is to not be seen or known outside it
because we as human beings have the fundamental right to experience food
in its absolute best condition
and everything else should be safely chucked out.

Today I learned the biblical teachings about hygiene
remain valid until our day
except now we have chuck-out dates
and digital thermometers to calculate the risk at the core.
Her name was Jean Payne and she delivered
a painful hygiene course using learning techniques
such as silly clipart dinosaurs representing germs
bluetacked to the flipchart.

Today I discovered a new route back to my house
and it was as if I had moved
to a completely different city.
From now on, depending on my mood,
I can decide whether I live in the Swanky West End
or in the Non-Educated-Delinquents* and Immigrants Maryhill
and walk back home accordingly
carrying my swanky, non-educated, immigrant
head full of mist and shadows.

*The term supports the Socratic idea about human malignity having its roots in nothing but ignorance.

Today I went into Lidl, because I thought perhaps
it would feel nice and Thirdworldy.
And I watched the prison-faced buying frozen pizzas for a pound
and I watched the turban-headed buying mars bars by the pound
and I watched the dog walkers buying fags and sunflower seeds
and I watched the ugly beauties buying beauty products
and I watched the destitute checking out children's boots and portable shelves
and I watched myself buying broccoli for a quarter of what it costs at the nice fruit&veg
glad about the save but worrying about pesticides and fairtrade
and transporting goods from the cheap, remote ends of the planet
consuming energy and scraping
the ozone with dimness
unsure if this should be my method
or should I always buy organic, or local, or cooperative, or at least nice
or better still: not buy at all and go rescuing food from skips
but I don't have the energy to struggle
or the friends to have fun
even though I would, and I do.

I need a method
so I can comfortably avoid deciding over and over
among all these very difficult choices.

Today my employer paid for me to be trained
in standards and methods so ridiculous
they have filled the nation with allergies.
I passed the test with all the correct answers to the not properly pronounced questions
just as I so enjoyed my perfect maths and grammar at school
and I was filled with the arrogance
of the over-educated, over-qualified, not-fit-for-minimum-wage-jobs
self I have unknowingly, circumstantially become.

Today I was told I can be held personally responsible;
put in jail for the mistakes of my institutions.
Makes sense in a world like this,
where He Who Serves the Drink is as guilty as the person drinking up
where He Who Writes the Word is as guilty as the person picking up and reading, and reacting, and changing.  ¶ 2:09 PM