I never choose fruit

[Keith]

Every lunchtime I slip away,
sit on my park bench meal deal,
coffee with a shot of vanilla,
sandwiches and a chocolate biscuit
or fruit.

The city drones regardless,
a backdrop to my tranquil moment.
Today is different, it taps for my attention,
vocal chords that wont hold still
they shout and scream,
blowing panic, man and machine
that tumble down crowded streets
quicker with each step,
rubble falls around me

I feel like a drunk woken at a party
stumbling to process the marker-pen scene,
drowning sirens are seen not heard
dust has its hands down my throat.
The rubble turns to burning bodies,
thumping to the ground,
splitting branches from the trees.
My mind had told my legs to run
long before it told me.