When the light has gone below
in winter days
streets mute with snow
I pace out to the sleeping mile
where day succumbs
a blessed while
To wallow in the ancient glares
of harrowed brows with
secrets there
Where men of olden high
esteem, are now just
figures fixed in dream
Their insight gone, their fire
burnt, their battles won
their lessons learnt
Just fodder for the pigeon dirt
that drops and scatters
on their work
Yes, on all sides these
tomb men sleep,
and cradle knowledge
once they gave
and now must keep
and now must keep.

There's a city, moving around me
with five hundred thousand people in it
you could meet one hundred every day
and it would take you fourteen years
to shake that many hands

On my street, now glowing outside
I visit the shops every day
and wordlessly buy anaesthetising
food. I consume it alone
I do not know the names of the staff
only the tiredness on their faces

In my block, of dingy flats
there must be at least a thousand
other humans. Every single one
a contained life. I hear them
sometimes in the walls

Four years.
That's how long it's been now
and I do not know my neighbours
we walk past with our heads down
and watch television to replace
feelings of emptiness.
All fearful of the same things
all bound for the same end.
Why don't we say anything?
In trying to remember
some common humanity
tomorrow I will say

hello

just watch me