Poetry: ‘Still Going’

A sequel, kind of, to ‘Going Going’ by Philip Larkin

 

Still Going

Fields and farms?
We don’t even have nostalgia any more.
We don’t even have doubt,
Let alone guilt.

It’s worse than you predicted.
We expected to be without
What came before the ellipsis,
But village louts?

They never did as much harm
As the crooks and tarts
Who flew us, full mast,
Out of your past

And into – high-risers?
They’re not even the metaphor
You thought they were.
Nothing grey about us:

Neon-lit, desert strip
(A moral would be nice).
Have you even seen Dubai?
It doesn’t need your advice.

What’s a spectacled grin
To a raybanned face?
The frame’s the same
But the status has changed.

We’ve been tinted,
Darker now
Than your grey, furrowed brow.
Imprinted

By greeds that
You needlessly hinted at.
Did you know the internet
Would be where your print is kept?

Safer than pages.
Less subject to changes.
No.
The last of your time
Remains only in gazes.

We’re still going, Philip;
You thought it would finish.

-Unseen. Flirtations.

 

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