Sinister: I'm only lucid when I'm riding buses

[ELIZABETH DAPLYN]

OK, so this isn't an ink _Polaroid_, 'cause I think that good things come to
those who wait.  I took it with my silly old ink Instamatic with weird
obsolete 110 film a couple of weeks ago, but hadn't bothered to get it
developed until now.

	When you look at it at first you can't see what it is, but then it
comes into focus as someone's shoulder, loosely clad in a beige coat (you
know the type, they're only ever worn by old men with really thick glasses)
and partially obscured by the back (tightly clad in horrible orange
faux-tartan) and peeling chromed rail of the seat in front of me.  	
	When the old guy got on the bus outside the hospital he offered the
driver two choices from a paper bag of Woolworths Pic 'n' Mix, paid his fare
fumblingly with arthritic fingers, then sat down on the seat directly in
front of your correspondent, just where I could see the small flecks of
dandruff on his collar, nicely highlit by the greeny-gold sunlight bouncing
around through the trees as the bus turned corners.

          Bonjour et au revoir,
                                         Liz.

*************************************************************
Cultivo una rosa blanca, en julio como en enero
Cultivo una rosa blanca, en julio como en enero
Para el amigo sincero que me da su manera franca.
*************************************************************


 
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