ADDICT

zoltan surveyed the scene through the window
and comtemplated the meaning of his existence
absent-mindedly picking through
the mental debris of his life
as he stared through the broad rectangle of transparent glass
something dawned on him
zoltan's best ideas
always bubbled to the surface this way
inspired by the fleeting ever-changing images
flying like darts through the portal
thoughts that he scribbled down fast
in his spidery shorthand
filling up his pocket 'pleasure notebook'
the bus swerving and swaying
as the driver careered along like a maniac
almost venomously pumping the brake
and sending passengers sprawling
zoltan had his preferred seat
right at the back of the vehicle
on the left-hand side
perched there up high on his kingly throne
he could take in the other passengers
as they got on, sat down, got off
he loved checking out what was going on
and what was going down
with these foreign strangers
he even had a preferred seating position
facing inwards towards the pavement
allowing him an almost 360 view of his surroundings
a retrospective vista
through the wide rear window
a panoramic cinema screen
that morning
as he sat there taking in the sights and sounds
as the bus sped through the morning traffic
it dawned on zoltan
that his life seemed to revolve entirely around addictions
obsessions and compulsions that were hard to control
an addiction to the strong sweet aromatic coffee he drank
an addiction to the deep red shiraz he sipped alone
late at night after another exhausting day
an addiction to solving the onrushing management issues at work
an addition to the recognition and appreciation
that seemed so hard to find
an addiction to pampering his dishevelled ego
an addiction to the svelte exotic beauties
who anonymously shared his bus journey
or swayed lithely along the hot pavements
displaying their shapely brown legs
a compulsion to give shape to his thoughts
to get them down on paper before they slipped silently away
disappearing into the ether
in poetry or prose
or in the form of vivid pastel colour
an obsession with capturing a slicing rhyming couplet
a haunting melody
preserving it in harmonic chloroform
imprisoning it inside its rhythmic cage
suddenly zoltan looked up
awoken from his reverie
as the bus neared his stop
he lurched unconvincingly toward the exit door
still clutching his pleasure notebook
his pen behind his right ear
he leapt from the blue bullet
and headed for his next caffeine hit