Hidden Talents.

1 February 2017

sat cold-arsed
at the bus stop
waiting on my job
I see what passes by

shorts with t shirts render men
fatter taller primary school boys
lipless sadness ground
into the skin

just women work here
no assessing trend

I

count up
nose-pickers shine on footsore
dads who proffer up a
juice box no mate see

I wear the short skirt you

chat me hard you
get me off this
cold hard ground

I

say
to my busmate

hey that looks like Plait Lady
and the pedophile

doesn’t that take you back

he did his time

we nod but in our side-eyes no
no no we don’t.

This entry was posted in 57.0: CONFESSION and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related Posts:

  • No Related Posts Found

Comments are closed.

Please read Cordite's comments policy before joining the discussion.