Saturday, 15 March 2014

Bus note 92

I sweat here being ill.
        The fog.
The shop clock's stopped.
        I shuffle off.
Six foot woman smokes
long thin cigarette.
        Her dress of triangles.
Walk over before
the green man says yes.
        My fog. My eyes.
The back of my stupid head.

4 comments:

  1. The geometry of misery.

    Timeless?

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  2. There's always a shop clock running somewhere. Everything seems lousy with time (the waged variety).

    Triangles can come in very handy.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks WB. The funniest thing I've seen in ages. I teach English for a living. Oh, how I relate to Scott's exasperation.

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