Time's friend

"Are you a Kerryman?" someone

asked, while the

froth rings grew tired.

A cackle quaked the room,

for a joke no one shared.

The crushing gaps were filling.

Lone men spread their papers

carefully between spills.

Refracted light gilded the words.

The yellowing clock

had stopped at such a second,

tamping fragile lives.

                 I looked into the black glass

                 as the bus blurred

                 the high street lights.    

                 A couple - I think they were - got on

                 at different stops and

                 smiled into a kiss.

                 I wiped the breath-mist 

                 and glimpsed glad faces

                 in familiar gloom. 

Fractious night belched in,

lost weeks, forgotten tears. 

Cigarette-throated singers

spat their parting.

Blearing stories left the day. 

And tomorrow? Tomorrow already planned.