I do like a good hot bath

Bath.
A long hot bath.
Sigh.
A big deep sigh.
Water,
Flashes over impervious flesh
In candle light like quicksilver,
Erodes away at the pain.
Bit by tiny bit,
It,
Washes, washes,
Washes away.
Down the plug-hole,
Like Grand-canyon silt.

Busing it

On the buses you hear-smell-feel all sorts of things.
Some pleasant, some not.
I smile at the eyes of the young man in love.
I reel from the cloying underarm scent of the young man in a hurry.
I fume at the head in front with mobile phone attached and voice that cut through the loudest “Kool Thing”.
I laugh on the inside at “Live in a Karoke bar or that golf course for the rest of your life?”

On the buses has it’s moments, but on the whole it’s just body odours (the smelliest vagina in Sydney!) and invasions of personal space.