Going to ground


Going to ground

He slinks through the
crowd with his head
bent forward
under his hooded sweatshirt.

Checking no one is looking,
he surreptitiously opens the
door to his flat. The radio and TV
allude to nothing.

The usual sounds rise
from the playground gaining
uninvited access through
the window as though
nothing had happened

With his conscience
now being slowly numbed
by the slow passing of time,
a can of lager and his favourite
team playing on the TV.


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