Aria in Gateshead Bus Station

At stand H he glances back over his shoulder
As if the text he is writing
Is secret
As well it might be

He sits perched on one of those bench seats
Like a long forgotten master
Of a long forgotten
Far Eastern fighting skill

Haze of breath spirals from his mouth
In this bitter waiting place
His tongue scrapes synonyms
From the crook of his lips

Thumbs proffer opposable opinions
Textual harassment
Predictive profanities
He presses send with a flourish

This place has the feel of catacombs
Too many corners and blind alley ways
The clip-clop of rushed stilettos
Produce a trip-hop back beat
To the experimental arias
Intended as anaesthesia for the masses

No amount of culture can turn this place
From the insipid to the inspired

Carreras crackles his way through the tedium
Over heads
Informs us that
Women are fickle as i witness
Another domestic squabble
Played out before the crowds
He barks out at their stupidity
'LA DONNA E MOBILE' and
Walks away shaking his head


There is a suppression of desire in this terminus
A containment of anything that looks
Remotely like ambition
The old man walks with the young man
A genetic hangover of that perpetual motion
We know as family
They part company wit a
Gentle slap of each other's face

I miss the second last bus home
An anti-climax of a journey
I pen my notebook to
Accumulate nuances;

The arc of her body as her friend checks
The straightness of line of
The back of her skirt
His stance as he stretches to look
The friend he ignores while doing this
Gesticulations and waning voices
The rumble of a night drawing to a close.

With all their buses departed
I am without a line to write
Wastrel when i need to be minstrel
Graphite and paper divorcing my fingers.

The twenty-eight arrives
A shepherd in the night sent to herd the strays
Clinging to the hem
Of evening's skirt

Voices peal in my head
From bars and libraries, stations and arias
I will pluck some words from this nightfall
But for now

I find myself boarding
Last bus to No Place
No-one to wait with
And nothing to go home to