The bus stops
outside a shop
most inappropriately named
THE BEAUTY SPOT
(which it is - not) .
I gaze at it for
quarter of an hour or more
bored
(oh so bored)
as we go
nowhere...fast.
There is no Present or no
Future any more
- just the Past.
And then when
the traffic slowly un-
-snarls
(I manically 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
admitted for my
19th Nervous
Breakdown.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-19th-nervous-breakdown-2/
