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a poem by Nicolas Kokkinos
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Driving Through Wales on the A5
You have the City in your blood
pumping into your brain and thumping
of schedules and appointments and
what’s on The TV guide.
You have dark circles under your eyes
because you don’t sleep from the jet lag.
You circumnavigate the globe in
a mere day
and think nothing of
Phileas Fogg.
Once you were like the wolves (before we shot them all),
used to a world without walls and fences
knowing instead the changing seasons
and the thrill of the hunt.
You hardly think anymore
of the ecological niche nature
designed for you.
Because:
your meals come from restaurants,
and your food comes from supermarket shelves.
Now in your expensive suit you sit in your car
parked on a slip road off the motorway
three miles from Bangor.
You’re supposed to be going to a meeting
but you have this feeling in your
gut.
Your view seems touched by glory.
The ancient mountains are green with young trees
and are split apart by shining streams.
Is this what Peace is?
Your mobile has no signal and
the silence is deafening.
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Notes:
Driving through Wales, and I realised how awesome it was.
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Posted: 25th October 2009
Words: 207
Viewed: 55 times
Comments: 0
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