Enlightenment 82

 

On the bus people have plans in their pockets

and misgivings are loose change.

Their smiles tell you lies

and you pocket the difference

 

Stars drip from zips left open.

Pasty crumbs are worshipped as promises.

A 7up can is an omen,

And a black cat etched in the glass

winks at you

 

On the bus religion

is ticket ink,

and small talk-

that tiny it

tinkles on your fingertips

reminding you to smile

 

Beliefs are folded in purses

and sleep till needed,

curled up shy and hesitant.

They call themselves ideas

as they like to change their mind.

They feel 'renegue'

sounds too pretentious

 

On the bus

a forgotten Smurf

balances his tilted chequebook.

Seeks solace inside a lost woolly scarf.

Blue hat poking the threads

hoping to be found

 

Wisdom is woven

through the Brogues of older ladies

and balanced on the buggies of

skint young mums

accents as broad as their laps

 

Spirituality is trodden

on to soles of the congregations shoes,

weary from a ride

where a dismount occurs

before their journey ends