Outside little moves

save for divorced foxes

corner-of-eye birds

and abandoned face masks

breathing in a confident breeze

indoors TVs cover walls

broadcasting shows

of people who used to be famous 

for being used to be famous

but he's safe here he thinks

high above the plain

of the Great Pandemic

the lifts still work

he doesn't remember the last time

he travelled in them

though each Friday he waits

at the gaping shaft

for food parcels from the charity

whose appeals fall on his deaf ears

charity begins and stays at home

he disposes of his waste in bags

that plummet to a ridge of refuse

hundreds of feet below

putrefying as the scavengers

consume what can be digested

he hasn't paid a bill for some time

but no one is collecting the rent

in the mid distance of his binoculars

giant cacti impale curious virus-finches

on their honed horned armoury

the TVs only offer repeats these days

his favourites are complete football matches

in empty stadia with added crowd noise

among the few times 

he hasn't heard racist taunts

at such so-called sporting events

these repeats

these repeats

these repeats

these repeats