Sunday, September 06, 2020

The Splendour of My Isolation

(Cito longe fugeas et tarde redeas)

I don’t want to go to Portugal
I don’t want to go to Greece
I’ve already been to the south of France
It wasn’t very nice in Nice

I don’t want to fly on an aeroplane 
Breathing recycled Ryanair
Passengers with masks on their foreheads
Mr Ryan doesn’t seem to care

I don’t need a holiday in the sun
There’s paella and moussaka right here
Greggs do those tasty little custard tarts
Better than in Albufeira
You say there’s so much out in the world to see
But I can watch Attenborough on TV
In the splendour of my isolation

I hear young people want to party
They’re hiring mansions on Airbnb
Three hundred people listening to Harry Styles
Necking alcopops and DMT

I’m happy here in the kitchen
Bluetooth headphones on
Warren Zevon and Carlsberg Special
Dancing with myself till dawn

I don’t need to meet other people
I don’t feel the need to connect 
I get all my food delivered
Don’t even have to click and collect
I don’t want a kiss and I don’t want a hug
I don’t want your respiratory bugs
I’ll breathe easy in the splendour
Of my isolation

Copyright Tom Morton 2020

No comments: