Nobody trusts anyone
now, and we are all very
tired. There is a long road

for return, but anyone even
bothering to venture down
will do so in the back seat

of an Uber, scrolling vacuously
deep on a phone they’re still
paying off each month.

We were hurtling here before
the hurtle; we were hurtled here
through too much hurting and

too many people with their
eyes on a phone rather than
on any of the roads ahead.

Nobody trusts anyone. Everyone
is tired, the road is too long and
our eyes will remain elsewhere.