The Bullet

When will that elusive one turn up, when will that gun be fired and the bullet caught between the teeth? Lord, the government and the guy who works at the supermarket only knows. I’m sure they don’t really, but saying it makes me feel better. A long time spent on a short trip, that’s what it feels like, the long way round to the shops. Three times. Make that four. And then you forget to buy the tea bags, so you have to go back. Twice. Oh life what twisted fun you must be having with us all. Glad you’re enjoying yourself, leave the back door unlocked for me, would you? Thanks, you’re a star. SH.

The Bitter Salts

The bitter salts are left to flutter like flickering lights, highjacking the wind to throw their shards at new homes. Formulate, if you will, and interview for yourself in ten years time. What would you say? Would you even need to say anything at all? Would one look at your decade plussed counterpart be enough to answer all your queries? Not a breath nor word need to be uttered but a look that says you’re going to be fine. Better than fine you’re going to get what you need, what you long for more than want.

The Great Escape

I sat and I watched on a sullied park bench as a plastic bag set fourth to make its great escape from a rubbish bin. The birds in the trees chattered away like children and the surrounding traffic noise rose up like the unconcerned rumblings from parents in the background. The tall leaves around swayed like hair and the plastic bag lay in wait, timing its actions like the prisoner watching the guard. After several valiant attempts the cause looked all but lost. Until, handles pulsing as great steadied arms, the bag got itself teetering over the edge of the green bin. The time was now, all was poised, and perched on the knives edge between freedom and deathly relegation, the bag paused, waiting desperately for one last ounce of wind. It came! And with the warm whip of the wind, liberty was found. The bag looked like a delighted animal, skipping off at high speed down the park path. It rolled and spun with its own pride, and carried away on the summers breeze, towards the city from whence it came. S.H.