Here’s an attempt / variation on a curtal sonnet, based on an overheard quote of a while ago…
Zones 1 to 5
Like a satellite, all I can see of him
is a distant silver spin:
a storm system on his thin-
ning scalp. He echoes every single
automated place name, loudly:
Cottingley. Morley. Batley.
“Lidl’s profits are up.” His eyes,
unseen, are its sun-yellow signs.
“Nobody lives where they work
anymore. We spend all our time