Their fierce eyes are upon him.
His clothes and accent betray.
His birth and history are known.
Thoughts and opinions deduced.
For he is from the world of learning.
From a red-brick place: a tombstone to irrelevance.
He doesn’t manually labour.
Doesn’t lie beneath cars.
Nor does he take Auto-Trader to bed.
Instead, he spends weary evenings
Wasting grey matter on futile subjects.
He sees the truth in other lives.
But not for him that privilege.
Their fierce eyes are upon him.
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