a big long red brick box
like a public convenience kidnapped from Legoland
by the edge of luminous green fields, it squats
warm (no doubt) and uninviting
barracks

its functionality makes me sad
for the young, and for the old
there's not much grace left in North Repps
could they not have spent a little bit more money
and made it more companionable?

amends are made, or are attempted:
by the road, four or five young silver birches
a row of plastic tubes, upright brown decaying wombs
from which, one day, a beech hedge may be born

I will be long dead, I guess
by the time it feels respectable
and will it still be used, by then? I hope so
North Repps, you need that old-fashioned love
that pisses on Planning Permission

which is a symptom of what, I wonder?
you people never say "Hello", you know
in South Repps people always do
and they ring their six bells for pleasure

© 2000 Dharmachari Padmavyuha

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