Pounding, pounding feet to a synchronising beat
of the mobile phone-connected office workers.
Too far away in cyberspace to be aware what beating form they’ve trampled on.
In the back a solitary shape, a defunct human, an obnoxious outsider, dressed in the faded blue colours of yesterday, in the uniform of a worker not beating to the beat of the mobile phone-connected office workers, rises awkwardly to help the small fallen, trampled child.
© Judy Brumby-Lake
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