FLEETING

dawn bus journey
or film short?
budget fixed
cast recruited
sets assembled
soundtrack scored
director in chair
clapperboard
opening shot
dimly lit interior
huddled figures bundled in overcoats
slouch in the half-light
destination unknown
but about to unfold
bum-freezer seats
dawdling driver
takes his time
forever crunching through the gears
forever going nowhere
vibrating engine
rattles the old bones
joints need oiling
hanging handles slap-slap on ceiling
hop off #16
taste the petrol exhaust
hop on #602
lights come on
fleeting corporate hoardings clamour for attention
blinking orange neon left over from the night before
over-urgent announcements grate
in two languages
neither of them my own
clumsy commercials take their cue
queue of rank taxis stretch out
waiting for a fare
fair wait
i'd say
‘i hate bush’ graffiti
(please don’t hate him – he’s only a weak man
why not do yourself a favour
and pray for the redemption
of him and his friends?)
a pretty face
a shapely behind
lovely young things shake their booty
old grandma in surgical mask
hollowed out eyes
bags of refuse
refuse to be collected
police enforcement zone
unenforced
texas bars
one two and three
nodding donkeys on the desert skyline
construction sight
glossy hair
pouting lips
lurch for the doors
step out
in2 the cold morning