Snow

A lack of musak.

No ghost, for spirits are immaterial as the wind

and here is a material world.

Aisles empty as the minds of the robots who patrol

for security has no soul.

Automated tills say

“have a nice day”

in a voice as caring

as the check out girl who is inwardly swearing

at her bloke,

“the guys a f..k joke”!

“Big Issue?”

the girl outside the store asks.

it’s a hopeless task

For the issue has been lost

and tossed

with the needles and dodgy cash

into the trash

Long ago.

Clubbers admire t...