APATHY

in the middle of winter
on a cold rainy monday evening
in an old converted warehouse
beneath the passages of a dark victorian railway bridge
six people sit around a long table
discussing an attack on democracy
what is at stake and what can be done to resist
a softly-spoken balding middle-aged man
produces a news clipping from 1995
and talks knowledgably but meanderingly
an earnest lanky fresh-faced crew-cutted young man
tries to keep the discussion to the agenda
suggesting ideas without imposing his opinion
a confident i-don't-suffer-fools-gladly young woman
makes most of the decisions
a stocky, tousle-haired man in a grey suit
slumps in his chair occasionally offering a wry comment
a jolly rosy-cheeked woman in her mid-thirties
eight months pregnant
interjects often to agree with doesn't-suffer-fools-gladly
a tall lanky blond chap in a grey fleece listens thoughtfully
stroking his beard
in a separate room
another similar-sized group is having a parallel discussion
on the not unrelated theme of fighting airport expansion
meanwhile the rest of the city goes about its business
two million people carry on as usual
as if nothing was untoward
the lads play darts and order another round
the girls head out for a night on the bingo
youths hang together on street corners looking for a bit of action
televisions buzz in suburban living rooms and teenage bedrooms
jaded parents put their children to bed
sleepy grandparents snooze by the fire
students head off out for a curry
car headlights light the way home