The Last Journey before Isolation


I am one of three unwise men
gathering early at the bus stop,
for our reluctant journey
to the silent city.

I place my bag on my seat
enforce social isolation.
Cover my face with a newspaper
breath in news
breath out speculation.
Breath in fact
breath out fiction.

When we arrive we scatter
like rats, scuttling down silent streets.
Masked spirits avoid eye contact
before vanishing as quickly as
the smoke from my cigarette.

 

Written after I returned from my last commute to Birmingham and the lockdown was announced.

1 thought on “The Last Journey before Isolation

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