Merthyr Bus Stop

pale day,

concrete coloured clouds,

rain

(Wetherspoons not open yet…)

skin like straw, bloodshot gaze, stretched skin, wrinkled nicotine, old fat, pink fat, diabetic eyes, haggard as a Dowlais-wet horse, drawn like dust, smell of beer, sweat and pee, dog damp coats, plastic bags, alphabet hands (h a t e a n d l o v e a n d m a m a n d d a d a n d s t u f f, lost coins, bent low, fag butts, scuffed shoes, grey rubber wheels

(kids swear…)

prescription in hand, destination damned, tea under grill, march, route planned, weekly thrill, daily trudge, cemetery face, hair matted, greasy chips, pavement crack, commit to memory, fill in forms, finish quick before the number 29…

(tomorrows?)

the sun will creep past, fast like sugar, without stirring them, and the buses come and go, past allotments that grow, more cabbages, while seeds that never sow, sink below, the poverty line

* Dave Lewis lectures IT & Photography. He also designs web sites, takes photographs and writes stuff. His first poetry collection Layer Cake can be bought on Amazon and he's just finished a short story and prose collection. He adds that his second book is one publisher short of a publisher at the moment. www.david-lewis.co.uk/write.html And also check out www.welshpoetry.co.u