The Big Society by Miles Salter

The trick is in the phrasing. Use first names,
say ‘I don’t accept that.’ Leave the studio
when the ON AIR light turns dull. Walk to the car,
wait for a text from the boys at Number 10.

A row of meetings. What will happen if.
Stick to it. Look strong. Meet the others
in the bar, a table at The Ivy, good burgundy,
Lawrence’s cousin. Share options,

a place on the board. Then home, avoiding
streets where blue screens shine with stories
from soaps, the houses of the unseen.
They weren’t at Eton, who can’t talk,

think, write the same; the cleaners, bus drivers,
builders, the ones from stacked streets, walking
dogs near graffiti, the ones we keep away from.
Another interview. Remember the phrases;

the Big Society. We’re all in this together.
Dinner tomorrow. Lawrence’s cousin, venison,
laughter. Percentages and foie gras,
while the country shrinks in the dark.

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