“Listen to those
contented cows
mooing. Oh I love
the sounds of
the country” they
say as they drive
past a black herd
in a green field.
Not seeing,
on the other
side of the road,
black calves,
separated
just last night
from their mothers.
Who are crying
in pain and fear
trying to get
their babies back.
Sensing that their
future lies in
a terrifying
truck journey
and then the
cutting of throats.
The white horse
on the far
green hill
moves all day
to a rhythm
all her own,
following
clues in the
pasture and
the hill shape
and the changing
shadows from
the trees,
and some days,
for no reason
I know, he
doesn’t
appear at all,
and I hope
she is all right.
He has no
interest
in my rhythms.
Whether I am
seven and
a half or
seventy
five, the I
who looks out
of my window
is the same I,
no matter how
he appears to
those looking in.
If you think after
Coronavirus,
corporations
will stop
exploiting
workers,
will stop
trashing
the world,
will stop
supporting
wars,
will stop
buying
elections,
will start
paying
taxes,
you’re living
in a parallel
universe.
Have I gone through
more than
half a century
with “the square on
the hypotenuse
of a right-angled
triangle is
equal to the sum
of the squares
on the other
two sides” stuck
in my brain?
Has the whole
human race gone
through twenty five
centuries
sharing the same
ear worm?
Sometimes I
meet someone
from my past
who tells me
something I didn’t
know about
a common friend,
or enemy,
or event,
that completely
alters my
memory of
that person
or history.
Are all of
my memories
fungible?
No one I ever
met, in the course
of my long life,
was as stupid
as Donald Trump,
and believe me
there were some
strong contenders.
If the world
was about to
be hit by a
giant asteroid,
which would
smash the planet
into pieces,
destroying all life
except
tardigrades,
there would be
people selling
tickets for the
best vantage point
from where to
see it coming.
January
gone,
February
gone,
March
gone and
April
gone any
moment now.
Worth
remembering
in these
frightening
times – all
imaginary
friends are
equally
imaginary.
