Like a Stranger at a bus stop
Like a stranger at a bus stop you looked at me,
Your rage obvious in your clenched shoulders,
Your silent mouth,
Your telepathic tantrum drumming in my head,
‘don’t make a fuss, don’t embarrass yourself’.
Your eyes narrow like a lobster,
‘You are less to me than dust’.
I open my mouth, to plead, to reason
But you are gone,
In a waft of perfumed air,
Like a stranger at a bus stop.
© Cathie Tufnail
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