#198 Kevin Brophy 'Three-Star Places'

#198 ‘Three-star places’

We’re staying inside today.

The birds are wondering where we are.

The sun still slides across the roof

though more cautiously than usual.

The breeze is up, checking on us,

flicking through our washing on the line,

our car can barely contain itself

on its springs and rubber by the door.

The children seem to have forgotten us

over at the school now, playing

as though we’re a disappeared dream.

I go across the road to talk to Tony

about bad backs we’ve had, and still have,

to be sure I’m here and part of everything.

Later when the phone rings it doesn’t seem to be

for us.

Someone offers a holiday for almost nothing

because people no longer go on holidays

to certain three-star places. We’re ok here

I say and slowly lower the phone to its cradle

afraid it might ring at us again.

The late sun holds on for a last puzzled glimpse

of us at the kitchen window with our laptops up

trying to catch the neighbour’s wi-fi signal

on its way through us.