But it was not in the news

these were days when people

could hardly see any future;

they would walk the streets pretending

that they too, would live forever

and that each and every day did not matter.

these were times when people talked about

the end of the world, about we all living the eve

of a third world war; humanity against a button,

heart against clouds of radioactive smoke,

flesh, blood spilled against solid steel.

but no one wants to hear that; it is christmas time

while troops of soldiers are flying to Iran

and a gunman hits six on the spot, 129 wounded

in the city centre of Brussels; death and war all

over the world, I hear a friend read from his phone.

these were times when people thought about

giving all up and running away, but it seems like

they could not, they could not remember

where it all went wrong, they could not let all

these great new things go; and so they stayed, believing that

in the worst case money would have to save.

but it did not, and out in the streets

all we could see was desert, the sun shining over

an immensity of dead land; you could hear the sound of fire

and the cracking of explosions

and somewhere in the distance

you would see men fighting each other with stones and sticks,

like Einstein predicted,

and eventually killing with their bare hands.

there's always tomorrow, I remember they used to say,

hoping that time too, would have a stop, like

business and money, like the movement

in all the fish and chips shops, the old Chinese women

trying to smile the fear of poverty and misery away.