Strawberry Cucumber Chicken

I rummaged through my backpack,

saffron lights gleaming brilliantly

pale highlighted edges of steps

a grumpy figure blocking my pathway

I reached for my wallet

and handed him two bills and a coin

My bag clung on the cold metal stairs

a loud echo tumbled along

but no one seemed bothered.

Rivers of words flowed clumsily

through the dimness of the air,

heavily clogged with jaded noise.

I squinted at the eerie purple glow

and dragged my bag across

as it bumped and vibrated.

Searching for a seat,

seats that feel like carpets

carpets that give severe rug-burn.

There was only one seat left:

squished between a family of five

jam-packed on two seats

and a young couple

who were not so pleased to see me.

I wanted to sit at the window.

I wanted the wind to blow onto my hair.

It was too late.

I rummaged through my backpack

for my treasured earphones.

I knew this day will come

I dreaded this always.

I could not find my earphones

This promised to be one hell of a ride.

---

Bobo, Lelo, Titi

the man called his little children,

children is an over-exaggeration,

they were brats

whinny little brats.

Were these their real names?

I wondered

their parents looked stupid enough

to name them Batman and piglet.

Titi kept looking at me

concentrating on my every move

as I tweeted my horrible fate

for all to know

I hate kids

I thought to myself

as I glared at her beady little eyes

to wipe the grin of her face.

The little one glued his head to the window

as if the window tasted like chicken,

chicken is my favourite

but maybe he thought it was chocolate

as he licked the glass

and smeared saliva with his lips.

The mother noticed her son's wrongdoing

and detached him from the window.

He screamed loudly

she tried calm him down.

She is as stupid as he is:

she does not yell at him,

she does not spank her kids,

she does not even intimidate,

he manipulates her,

she is his slave.

I blame her

for everything wrong in this world.

I blame her bad parenting

for the corruption

for the economic crisis

for world hunger

---

The kid did not stop crying,

all three kids started whining

they got bored,

the passengers cranky

judging eyes rolling.

On the other side of the bench

the girl and her boyfriend were irritated

I could feel her urge

to bitchslap the spoiled monsters.

She cannot concentrate

on the nail pollish she was applying

red nail pollish

not classy red

not even a decent shade of red;

the red was slutty

Moulin Rouge whore-house red.

It was as cheap as her hair-do

Donuld trump wants his hair back

I thought.

Shorty, no noise was had

I look over to my right

the little rascals are munching on cucumbers

the musky smell wafts throughout

mixed with industrial nail polish odour.

The air smelled like strawberries,

strawberries are my favourite

I could not complain

but maybe it was chocolate.

---

Soon the whining recommenced,

I was doomed to this fate

Why didn't I wait

for the next bus to come?

Why did I have to forget

my earphones this time?

I rummaged through my backpack

in hopes of finding what I wanted

but I could not find what was not there.

I stared out the distant window

the traffic was not moving

red lights from cars kissed

yellow light from street lamps.

A sound of music tickled me.

An old lady in front of me,

she had an iPod

the volume turned up full.

I was purple with envy

or was is the purple from the lamps?

Why do old people need iPods anyway?

I closed my eyes

to escape the misery,

the noise was quiet

the darkness was bright.

The next thing I remember

were the cold metal stairs

on my way out.