A COMFORTING DISTANCE

Two posts ago I wrote about the death throws of Neoliberalism. It would seem that my MP does not agree. Last week she stated in Parliament that the people of her constituency [that's me and mine] are "thousands of pounds" better off under the Conservatives. My own experience and that of my friends does not confirm this statement. Perhaps we are living in a mirror world, where everything happens the other way.
I do not usually reprint a poem but I am making an exception to celebrate the "thousands of pounds" by which I am better off.

Trophy

Afterwards I can track the switch,

exactly where one thing became another,

when suddenly compromised, I seemed to collude.

I picture myself on her website, my smile an endorsement,

a trophy of seized photo op.

She wears her ambition as if it were acceptable.

As I take umbrage, she says:

You don’t know anything about me.

This is both right and wrong.

I know the flag she drapes across her shoulders.

It is as blue as privilege and disdain.  

Apparently she has since claimed that she was highlighting how specific Budget policies are helping working people. 
Can't say they have affected me or mine yet...

Here is the poem I wanted to showcase this post.
It came out of nowhere and I've been revising it for some time now.

he is a big man

and fills the opened door

feel the air

moved by his mass

the argumentative lens of the camera

slung around his neck

points from his chest

slow footed across the public space

he spills on to the sofa

uncomfortable

unless his hands holds objects

he raises the camera

begins to look at the world through the tiny screen

a comforting distance

the stutter of the shutter

bounces round the room

Last night I saw Boo Hewerdine in Totnes. As usual he was superb. I am leaving you with Patience of Angels.

Until next time, unless of course I manage to discover the "thousands of pounds" by which I am apparently better off...