Regent’s Park At this impasse, I recall the man’s words
Daubed on a virtual wall: “I went to work
The day the world ended. I watched it from
My cubicle”. Uncoiled, end is a gentle thing,
Observed without alarm. No passions arise,
And there is less surprise than haunted recognition:
Perhaps I am participating. Brush away the thought. Glimpse the penguins in the Regent’s Park; their
Honking always reassures. Shuffle, banal in the
Semi-dark with this friend, that friend, waiting
For coffee. Apocalypse, beiger than imagined.
