Child-like delight in finding vacant
top deck front seats, the panorama
of the cloud drama and enough sun
to make it feel like a holiday, jaunt
rather than another workaday ride home
as we leave the city behind lemon yellow
and pulsing blue breaks through dream/reverie
police in a cavalcade, six or seven Skodas
and three or four Judge Dread outriders
what now?
Unease replaces novelty
the Cool War on our very own doorstep
tv crews with microphones web the paths
of bewildered shoppers
some are limelight extraverts,
others, confused, not wanting
to be part of the spectacle
what now?
These days you tempt fate
by turning on your very own tv…
live pictures, the prime minister
doing/going (?) walkabout, familiar
landmarks visible behind her
she speaks the well-worn phrases
politicians save for these occasions
although I can’t judge, blame her
the news rolls, changes, goes
and tomorrow there will be different clouds
another sky-scape,
PM and crews packed up and gone.

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