Car slows,
clatters on by,
caterpillar pace,
clash of context.
“Bus Wanker!”
shouts a spot,
a spot in a passenger seat,
a spot, that spreads outwards until it merges
at one –
with other spots.
A carful of pink youths,
blurred,
hazy …
Making a smudge in my notebook
of poems.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, May 2017
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 