Ode to cruel fate

That woman looks deadset like she'll
attack the next person who gets in her
way with a bunch of geraniums she's
got swaddled in crumpled pink tissue
paper or else she'll drop them unwind
her lipstick and smear sensual pink all
over someone's forehead, someone who is
nodding as she does so as if to say yes
I know you're having a bad day but so am
I so am I and what you're giving me here
is a confirmation, a final godcharged sign
that if you nudge the stylus to break out
of a stuck record then when it falls back
between the grooves the music becomes
alien momentarily and your ears need time
to adjust like eyes to the room when the
lights are flicked off and I will have to
leave my wife because she'll think I've
been kissed by an epilepctic, thankyou.