nothing behind me

the bald man in front
pale as a peeled Maris Piper

sings his apology
in coughlets

a young girl makes a ring
with her folded Walkers crisp packet

the scent of damp coats
& mouldy umbrellas

the bus turns

they all lean

a squall of twigs at the window
I close my eyes

the tiny asterisks
start their pirouette

.