(with apologies to Philip Larkin*)
When I see a couple of oldies
And guess he's a fucking racist and she
Gets her facts from the Daily Mail
I know this is the hell
Many of us have dreaded all our lives -
Bonds and kinship pushed to one side
Like an outdated mobile telephone
And everyone young going down the long slide
To misery, endlessly. I wonder if
Anyone looked at me, forty years back,
And thought, That'll be no life;
No good any more, sweating for zero
Hours, if that, and having less to live
On than those who came before. Him and her have
Already enjoyed their long slide and then sold
It from under us. And immediately
Rather than words comes the thought of closed windows:
An uncomprehending absence,
And behind it, the dark dank stench, that promises
Nothing, and is everywhere, and is endless.
(*Although the old bastard would definitely have voted to leave.)