Sunday

The bus was packed that
Sunday afternoon.

I was getting impatient
with the man in front. He had the
Arctic Monkeys
blasting from his face. It's a shame
I'm not a fan, or I'd have yelled along.

Between the change of track
I breathed a moment of silence

which slithered
through the split second and splashed
into more noise.

Feed the baby! I yelled in my mind.
My eyes stoned the mother who starved
her child of milk and love.

"It's Jeff, I'm on the bus, what's for tea?"
Apparently, he made a doctors appointment
for Wednesday morning. The bus wondered
what Jeff had.

My ears rang; I pressed the bell;
my head pounded.