The bus stops <br />outside a shop <br /> <br />most inappropiately named <br />THE BEAUTY SPOT <br /> <br />(which it is - not) . <br /> <br />I gaze at it for <br />quater of an hour or more <br /> <br />bored <br />(oh so bored) <br /> <br />as we go <br />nowhere...fast. <br /> <br />There is no Present or no <br />Future anymore <br /> <br />- just the Past. <br /> <br />And then when <br />the traffic slowly un- <br />-snarls <br /> <br />(I manicially smiling) <br /> <br />& we finally move <br />all of 50 feet or more <br /> <br />only to come <br />to a stand still <br /> <br />outside a betting shop <br />grinding to a furious halt at <br /> <br />FIRST PAST THE POST <br />for another 20 minutes more <br /> <br />I am suddenly 7 to 1 favourite <br />to go stark raving mad. <br /> <br />All the stops seem <br />to mock <br /> <br />my extreme lateness. <br /> <br />Ahhh....good...Goodmayes & <br />St. George's Hospital have just arrived <br /> <br />where I get off <br />& walk <br /> <br />(fast as I can) <br /> <br />rather than be <br />addmitted for muy <br /> <br />19th Nervous <br />Breakdown.<br /><br />Doral Deepset<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-19th-nervous-breakdown/
