Another Day Poem by Ian Keenan

The centre is lost
as I stand,
ordering coffee in the buffet bar,
uncertain about my uncertainty;
flu? , interrupted sleep? ,
underlying anxiety?

Reading Town looks at me,
all glass and Aztec,
the grey cygnets at
Tilehurst
squalling in rings.

Oracle, Regus, Druid,
J D Edwards,
ICL Retail and Microsoft,
all faceless sandstone.

I journey half
hearted to a meeting
off the Edgeware Road.
Perhaps Andrew will
enliven me,

Perhaps the green and blood
brown of these endangered
fields, invaded by the Brooksides
of Didcot, will stir me.

My coffee reassures,
while the Aussie in purple
flicks my Guardian,
shyly returning my
smile.