Bus stop pick up?
Driver-change?
Brake?
Stop.
Break.
Driver desperate, desires to kill – ten minutes,
just ten minutes of our time.
Spluttering stop; bus cranks out
in lullaby lay-by.
Engine gasps, grumbles, grizzles, groans;
passengers fidget and fudge –
ferocious and
desperate to kill.
Driver’s all chewed-up, choking, croaking –
“Just ten minutes!”
Holding up thumb with crunched-on nail,
pleading,
pleading for just ten minutes to roll
a fag,
for just ten minutes –
to kill.
Copyright owned by Jay Cool, May 2017
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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.
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