The bus stops
outside a shop
most inappropiately named
THE BEAUTY SPOT
(which it is - not) .
I gaze at it for
quater of an hour or more
bored
(oh so bored)
as we go
nowhere...fast.
There is no Present or no
Future anymore
- just the Past.
And then when
the traffic slowly un-
-snarls
(I manicially smiling)
& we finally move
all of 50 feet or more
only to come
to a stand still
outside a betting shop
grinding to a furious halt at
FIRST PAST THE POST
for another 20 minutes more
I am suddenly 7 to 1 favourite
to go stark raving mad.
All the stops seem
to mock
my extreme lateness.
Ahhh....good...Goodmayes &
St. George's Hospital have just arrived
where I get off
& walk
(fast as I can)
rather than be
addmitted for muy
19th Nervous
Breakdown.
Doral Deepset
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-19th-nervous-breakdown/
