Sunday, November 08, 2020

New Poetry by Paul Tanner

the last bus

the lamppost hums.

holy shit,
there’s a ten-pound note sitting in the kerb –
I bend down, snatch it up, shake the rain off it:

it’s a bad job.
cheap paper. 
the queen wonky.
the colours faded.
I turn it over
and the other side’s blank.

can’t believe I was suckered:
it’s the bad street lighting.
this treacle lamppost glow,
it makes the forgery look glossy, 
a bloodier orange 
compared to the dark of the street
and I look around the dark of the street,
scared I’m being laughed at 
by boys in the bushes. 

what can I do? 
I drop it back in the kerb
cross the road 
and hide in the bushes with the boys, 
waiting for the next sucker. 

fucking bus never showed anyway. 

- © Paul Tanner 2020

Paul Tanner is a UK poet who no longer works essential retail and is still finding it difficult to believe a Tory government is paying him to stay home and write.

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