I don’t worry about the future. Perhaps I should, but I don’t.


This town isn’t going anywhere
and half of us
or more
are destined to toil and moulder
within her limits

She will give every ground
and she will be gentle and caring
but some of us are just not
cut out for this whole
‘taking initiative’

Stuck, might be a word
or washed up, another
and instead of reaching the stars
we might deign to move potted
plants at a local greenhouse

She isn’t going anywhere,
and maybe neither are we,
that’s true,
but her limits, though narrow
are poorly defined, and have
been so for ages, and

maybe a long country jaunt
is all any of us really need

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