2188: Bus Twenty-nine

I still adopt my masks [for
busy areas] – a cheek-kiss
of ear-looping rulings as I
elect taking laved air – but

I’m stuck breathing fumes
of city drunkards as I sit &
wait on #29 [last of today]
to take me away – jittering

LEDs say DUE – & whiffs of
ires take me off [on a #28]
early from that piss stop –
that staggered Steine – an

evening of varied comedy
is left behind just beyond
Jubilee St – prior delights
until then met by Netflix –

less risk of infections – I’m
shuttled off from Brighton
by my alternative bus [no
more North St torments] –

I flee a suspiration of sighs
to a quiet time – bench-sat
in Lewes’s cold bus station
with this wilting phone – A

man-in-green stacks food
behind me in Waitrose – a
car full of coppers patrols
‘til their clocking-off time

& bus #29 pulls up – halted
bright – an over-lit waiting
room – empty apart from a
morose driver – unmasked

until Uckfield – but first via
unlit chassis-rattling rustic
routes [my sure way to flee
drunks & sour exhalations]

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