A Disconnected Vagary

I went looking for jeans and a jumper
And left the house wearing a dress,

The wind was sour and soft,
Like an embarrassed stranger’s cough,

A disconnected vagary
Hanging on a reverie;

They’d left all known communications dead,
Tired entrepreneurs dished out scribbled notes to plebs,

Entertainers traded pseudonyms like sex,
A mess from stress and kind regards,

Old errors on unmanned, spent radars,
Charred symbols in the parks

And satellites crying from the sky.

It was left to a dazed woman in a torn jumpsuit
To unexplain what had got us all here,

Teary eyed, numb with shock and afraid
Like an old dancehall where the songs stutter then fade,

A mess of washing left out in the rain,
Unlit bonfires and sacks of wet grain,

She sobbed words into a cloud,
All epithets and growls,

And ruined the rest of my day.

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