poem written on an edinburgh bus ticket today

lying in the long grass at Arthurs seat
eating my roll
Italian voices calling out 'Car Mia Car Mia!'

they rise and fade....

The wind stirs the flaxen grass
then sighs
like blind mens arms groping in the dark

Hidden in the hoary scrub
two small birds
flirt on the pinnacles of the branches
and pipe out to eachother

the wind rises
melody's thread soars high like a kite
and is lost in the breeze

American accents break open the new void
holding hands
they come into view
looking into eachothers eyes

'Cara mia'

p.s when getting on edinburgh buses always have the exact change....because the bus drivers wont give you any and they wont let you on with less...only more.