A lack of musak.
No ghost, for spirits are immaterial as the wind
and here is a material world.
Aisles empty as the minds of the robots who patrol
for security has no soul.
Automated tills say
“have a nice day”
in a voice as caring
as the check out girl who is inwardly swearing
at her bloke,
“the guys a f..k joke”!
“Big Issue?”
the girl outside the store asks.
it’s a hopeless task
For the issue has been lost
and tossed
with the needles and dodgy cash
into the trash
Long ago.
Clubbers admire the snow, so pure and white.
It will be a delightful night.
Out of mind, out of sight