A bead of sweat jogs down
my damp forehead,
heading for the tip of my nose.
Where there was once "pit stains"
there now lies quarries.
The bus is tightly packed
as well as stuck behind lost
and foreign lorries.
I experience the deepest envy
I've ever known,
as outside the window
a small child holds two ice lollies.
What greed! What fiendishness!
To flaunt such a gift before us all
in this Public Pressure Cooker.
I'm not ashamed to admit the smile
that turned the corners of my lips,
when I saw those frozen poles
melt, and slide right off the sticks.
