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A WET PLACE
I stood shivering at a bustop
Purple tears smudged through my eyes
I stood slobbering after you
Dribbling wet banana
Storm clouds overhead illuminated by pastey face
I was grey and intoxicated
Me legs began to wobble
I began to fall around myself in all directions
My skin rolled down over my cheeks
Presently I slipped down over myself
And plopped onto the footpath
Two lovers walked by
Part of me slopped up onto her skirt
They never noticed my yellowness
New lovers rarely do
I had given myself some fright during the transformation
Acceptance would be with me presently
The rain clouds overturned each other
I shook in little areas of pain
Grey rocks and sharp pieces of dirt
Stick into my jelly
I hoped the bus would come soon
I could go home
And place myself in a warm container
If it rained
I would sink into the grass
In water dispersion droplets
No-one would be there
To notice
To suck me up in a straw
To lick me off a wet spoon
There were too many other varieties on the shelf
I shivered in ripples of strong storm breeze emotion
And thought about being cool and smooth
I could move anywhere
I had to remain stable
Roll on my own mass of milk solids
The bus stop was an empty air bubble
I found it difficult to walk
Being custard
I kind of crept
The grey grass spiked my softness
The bus would be here
In thirty minutes
In thirty minutes
It would arrive early and take me to new exotic places
I gurgled yellowly as I slipped coldly
Around the bustop sign and
Purred smoothly along the gutter
In thirty minutes
The bus came
I held out a chunk
It drove straight past | 
