wishes me a good day
sat there in his cardboard box with his big broad smile
tapping together his feet - a plimsoll on his left foot
oddly a wellington on the right
he interlocks his contented fingers behind his head
(does this guy not realise the cost of petrol or how much
we must now to pay for a spare bedroom)
out of touch
this posh boy we call a prime minister actually does feel
we are all enjoying the fruits of a recovery together?
Previously appeared in: Poetry 24, The Ugly Tree; Poetry Scotland, Emergency Verse, Write Away, Caught In The Net, Red Pencil, Writer's Hood, Transparent Words; Emergency Verse and The Robin Hood Book.