Read All About It

Don’t worry, York
You don’t have to go outside today
About it
There’s frost, quite a lot,
People breathing like dragons,
No snow,
Though there is something speckled in the air,
Maybe it’s trying to snow, maybe someone’s ashes have gone astray
Steam rises from the river in a Dickensian manner, bleak yet cosy in its familiarity,
Don’t worry, don’t look, just
About it
There’s a man on the footbridge
Taking pictures
But I won’t do the same
My descriptions should suffice
If they don’t, your imagination is due an update.
It should be enough to just
About it
I contemplate Dickens and fog
as I descend the steps at the other end
A man appears, passes
Smoking a pipe
Swinging his right arm in a controlled way
Adding to his drama
Which is swiftly detracted from by his beanie hat and backpack
Though I still enjoy him.
Don’t leave your homes, don’t leave your Facebook,
About it.


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