INSTINCTS     88




Something has changed in the streets
Since I’ve been away a couple of hours
Unfamiliar advertisments
Weird manequin fashions
Nothing seems right
The media, people’s voices
Speaking in black and white
Unknown languages

I journey underground
Examining commuters
Tailenders of rush hour crowds
Gving each other the silent treatment
In their lonely trains
Passengers seated in the swaying carriage
Attempted deadpan reflections

A feeling of striplights
Hung over a chessboard
There are no real clues here
I go to catch a bus
The old route, now also uncertain
An early morning with new constellations
The driver and I, travel alone in silence

I get off too soon, to escape the atmosphere 
No- one got out at my station before
Every aerial turned skywards
No- one behind me
An absence of soldiers in curfew streets
Road lights fade 
Litter blows across pavements
No air raid sirens, no blinding white flash and no cars

No accident, no drugs were taken
But my name makes no sense to me now
House keys in pocket reassure for a while
I walk faster into my neighbourhood 
Smoke my final cigarette
Safe
Knowing there are more at

Home

Where has my home gone?