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We Are The Bag

bring your own angst

By Paul ConneallyPublished about a year ago • Updated about a year ago • 1 min read
We Are The Bag
Photo by Coda on Unsplash

the self-checkout asks

if I’ve brought my own bags

I think “I’ve brought my own angst”

I press ‘no’ and pay

contactless

.

a man with a dog

and a cardboard sign

says nothing

we share the silence

a stale sandwich

.

the sea is boiling

I think “if the Thames caught fire

would they still argue

about net zero targets?”

I say “crazy weather eh?”

.

I think about

the refugee child who drowned

his name forgotten

faster than the latest

celebrity scandal

.

I want to scream

“we are complicit

in every quiet shrug”

I say “it’s complicated”

an overpriced oat latte

.

a man in the pub

says “I’m not racist but”

and I think “you are”

I smile and change

the subject to football

.

dead patches of grass

a child asks why

the sky looks sick

I think “we poisoned it”

I say “it’s just a bit cloudy.”

.

a plastic bag

in the branches of a tree

it flaps in the wind

I think “we are the bag”

I say nothing

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About the Creator

Paul Conneally

Paul Conneally is a Cultural Forager, poet and artist.

He writes on culture in its widest sense from art to politics, music and science and all points between.

His Twitter handle is @littleonion and on Instagram he is @little___onion

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    Written by Paul Conneally