The woman, smilingly upright
in the seat in front has a brand new perm
soft and snug as a dandelion clock and I can tell
she’s happy with it. So here’s my dilemma:
do I tell her about the three, no four, tiny beetles
wandering around in her hair?
Do I tap her on her shoulder and say:
Excuse me do you know you have beetles in your hair?
They are harmless beetles, the sort that die in new paint.
Removing them would ruin her perm and besides,
she may be deaf, I may have to repeat myself,
other passengers would become involved.
There may be a fuss. But if I say nothing
might she be tortured later by the thought
that strangers on the bus
think she’s the kind of person
who is used to having beetles in her hair?
Behind me, there is a little boy who knows
a lot about Nottingham City Transport.
He is an expert on low floors and accessibility,
liveries and the various engines.
His name is Lennon.
I think I would rather listen to Lennon than
tell the woman about her beetles.
Lennon gets off with his responsible adult.
I am alone with my dilemma.
© Rosie Garner
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