Solitude in the City

The 176 takes longer each day.
'...And then I said to im
fuck you, I said funkincheek,
funkin right its funkincheek
woz ee liyke, I meane...'

Eek out the time over the
'Standard, get your Standard here'
cryptic.
'Last stop ladies and gentlemen,
Last stop please'.
Funkincheek.

The sky glows yellow with
city night-time never blackness.
The night air still somehow cool
excitement. A peepshow of
lighted windows pass

she kisses his cheek, he turns,
mother tugs the racing car curtains
shut. Hands chop, slug red wine
each bright story told in silence.

The key grates in the lock
forces back and forward.
Upstairs the radio blares and
nearby an unmistakeable
rhythmic thudding...
'and also tonight we'll be talking to..'

Can't be bothered to cook tonight.
I’ll just open a can.
'Last stop ladies and gentlemen,
last stop please'.