Allowable Mirth

Glasgow summer, pissing it down;
it's Graduation Day so reflections
in the sudden puddles on the Byres Road
show high heels, kilts and Batman robes.
 
This hissing temple of a bus throws water
into the path of leather-skin alkies still
dressed for that last night at The Barrows,
still dancing to stay out the rain.
 
In the first seat in the bus, a blind guy,
listening hard for clues, no dog, just the stick.
Outside the Metro a soaked couple push
past another blind guy, he spins into the seat
 
beside the first blind guy, their sticks cross and tap,
the one falls into the other, they grunt,
rearrange themselves, listening hard for clues,
'See you?' says one.
'Naw.' says the other.
 
Sharp as the bus décor, turquoise and purple,
quick as the flying curve of the stairs, just
for a moment they look past each other.
The passengers check for permission;
the bus shakes with allowable mirth.


Vivien Jones

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