The world is busy, Katie

The world is busy, Katie, and tonight
the planes are playing, fine, alright, but soon
the folk behind those blinks will nap, sleep tight,
as you will too, beneath a nitelite moon.
The world is busy, Katie, but it’s late –
the trains are packing up, the drunks are calm.
The fast, the slow, has gone. It’s only freight
that storms the garage lane. It means no harm.
The world is busy, Katie, but it’s dark –
the lorries nod, they snort, they spoil their chrome.
They hate to be alone. For them, a lay-by’s home.
The world is busy, Katie, like I said,
but you’re the world – and tired. It’s time for bed.

from Lucky Day (Carcanet, 2005), © Richard Price 2005, used by permission of the author and the publisher

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