My long-delayed flight now fast receding,
The unfamiliar blankets my view.
I fail to recognise the city’s name;
I am waiting but do not know for what.
In this pandemic I walk straight and spare.
A frolicking heavy points through a door,
Where hard-faced boys are flicking bits of cake.
Bored, I join the queue at the pharmacy,
Hoping to find elusive masks and gel.
The man in front looks like L.S. Lowry;
With nothing better to do, I ask him.
‘What do you think?’ he replies. ‘Who can tell?’