I turn my ipod up loud.
Two teenage girls effortlessly manoeuvre
Their prams on board, the boy swaggers behind.

A man gets on with a bag of fish and chips,
The smell, slowly filters towards the back
Of the bus. On the opposite side

By the window, a man sneezes without
Covering his mouth, I see the spray
But the woman in front, feels it.

Tracksuits, ponytails and prams accumulate,
They all bundle off at Stretford mall for
McDonalds and Benefits. Suddenly,

A fresh citrus scent fills the air. An old
Woman is peeling an orange, she looks
Like a small child with a complex new toy.

At Hulme, a shadow of a monstrous ribcage
Swallows us whole and then spits us out, as
We drive past the empty carparks.

I turn my ipod off, put it in my bag.
The engine behind me wheezes and splutters,
The seat pattern is made up of green, grey,

Orange and yellow, most of them are stained.
A plastic bottle dislodged from a handrail
Clatters to the ground and it rolls at every

Corner. My elbow is jabbed by
An empty Special Brew can wedged into
A gap beside me. I close my eyes'¦..

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