So if distant sounds of aeroplanes means we’re
still here then the airways share our solitude, fly-
bys remind us we’re nowhere in particular under
business’ flight paths coming and going busily -
uncontroversially blessed with irrelevancy; but it
isn’t a rakish form of despair, or failed epithet, to
be none-the-less semi-comatose in this arena’s
now completely compromised anonymity;
not the one I recall us seeking; we were a naive
pair of escapees hoping country air would allow
room for a few peccadilloes we’d only guessed
at; and yeah, it’s as if we’re still looking, a likely
story that even we are beginning to believe …
© 1 May 2014, I. D. Carswell
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