Choice

Early, I shuffle into the soul-
less
bus-stop gathering, and am
held upright and inanimate by buggies, walking sticks and re-usable bags made fat with
High Street consumables,
as I make my choice –

Number 48 or Number 548?
Twenty minutes or forty?
Costa coffee won’t wait for a 48.

Hudson’s rosé can make it
down.
Gulped.
Disinfected.
Fizzled.
Giddy, I return –
seek 48.

On the dot, still popping, I pause …
swaying kerb,
thumb out,
tingling …
48?


Copyright owned by Jay Cool

 

Published by The Silly-Savvy Salopian

Freelance writer and descendant of the cave dweller and outlaw, Humphrey Kynaston. Banished from Shropshire for my eccentricity, I have made my home in Suffolk. I write poetry, short stories, travel journals, comedy gig reviews and non-fiction articles. My wish is to write my way back into the heart of my birth land. All writing commissions (and free holidays in Shropshire!) considered.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: