joanne burns: pasture

the buffet bar had only
iced corned beef and
pickle sandwiches it was
a boring novel it needed a
better murder and more full
stops the ticket inspector
carried a blue rubbish bag
in his other hand, and heated
pasties and pies to conversational
levels between announcements;
the black cattle provided some attractive
gazure and the descriptions of dostoyevsky’s
sex life were absorbing though not a little
aquatic and archetypal but the moment
when he stood on a chair to get a better view
of the madonna was memorable it’s always best
to travel with several books and a packet of ears
but the aeneid was too much of a big travel story
an embarrassment for this little trip to a nation’s capital
the story of a woman’s quest for preloved designer clothes
was on offer across the aisle for all lethargic passengers take
them home wash them and they’re yours; then i had a thought
wouldn’t it would be great if you could photocopy articles of
clothing you’ve left at the dry cleaners in case they’re needed
for private reasons a head’s a great place to live in for a while