Missed a few, regretted it immediately and can’t wait to get back in the saddle, and thanks to Rochelle and the wonderful bunch of folk here I can. My Dad had a bad stroke a few weeks ago and so I’ve been trying to sort the shit show out, with my Mum, my Hospitalised Dad and my family, not forgetting my job. So I’ll try to write something, but have no idea how it’ll turn out… Thats part of the fun I guess, just letting the words flow, or not.. Lets see,
Thanks to Douglas M Macllroy for the photo, reminds me of something spacey, lets see what gives.
On My Marks…
Michael, stationary in a chair, right arm pulled across his belly by left, his right leg in red gripper socks hanging listless off the wheelchair’s footrest.
Stationary, looking out over the carpark, seeing cars come and go, unregistering, dreaming of home and familiarity.
Sewage pours into our waterways, spiralling into nebulae of excrement effluent; politicians look over their shoulders for a while
Michael stares into the night sky, real Nebula, through tears.
World leaders fly thousands of miles to Glasgow to discuss the climate cataclysm.
Michael watches a plane disappear leaving only a vapour trail.
How he wants to go home .
There we are 100 words on the isolation and loneliness of a hospital patient in the times of covid, specifically my Dad.