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?’