pubic transpurt

Long Road, Clapham Common

oh, why can’t we just have sex?

you like me and i like you

so why can’t we just do it?

yes, right here in this bus stop

ok, well, maybe not here

but somewhere close by

in the very near future

why can’t that happen?

i don’t understand

no, i don’t want to talk any more

and coffee gives me gas

dinner?  don’t push it, love

i just want to have it off with you

you know, in the old fashioned way

naked, just the two of us

no talking, only porking

a date? oh for fuck’s sake

the moment’s going, love

why can’t we just bang?

instead of holding hands

and me trying to make you laugh

and saying anything

literally, anything

to get your clothes off

things along the lines of

“yes, my favourite colour’s teal” and

“no, i want to take my time, too…”

do i shit!

all i want to do is hump you senseless

on the futon back at my flat

it would be great

we could do loooooads of jiggy jig

and then eat jaffa cakes

and watch Match of the Day

what do you say?

what do you mean you’ve got to go?

your bus is here?

the number eight?

brilliant, that’s near where i’m staying

we could bonk on the bus

if you’re running late

or on the steps of your house

if you really can’t wait

hey, don’t look at me like that

like i’m some dirty perv

only after one thing

what a nerve! As if!

is that what you think of me?

we’ve only just met

and all I can think of

is parting your legs?

that is pretty astute, to be fair

so, yeah…

is this going anywhere?

i didn’t think so

you made it quite clear

when you called the police

when i sniffed your hair

though, it’s not all bad

the cop shop’s right next to my gaff

i can walk home from there

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custerd (i)

I lift a lid
the “whites”of my eyes

have a tinge of yellow to them now

that can’t be right.

they have a dry yet glossy

just-dead sheen
like a nicotine-stained cue ball from a 1980’s snooker hall

i’ve been travelling for too long

i want to come home

i want to do something