Killing Time
We argue on the underground -
she thinks I don't know where I'm going.
I remind her I used to live in London .
Yeah 20 years ago she says
and gives me that look.
We part at the university gates,
a fat boy is letting his mum go in with him.
Autopilot takes me to Foyles.
I buy a novel I think I should read
then go across the street to Starbucks,
two skinny lattés, a double chocolate
muffin and half a chapter later
I move on to the British Museum where
a poem starts to write itself.
By the time I get to the Egyptian Room
I have to get it down, start scribbling
on my daughter's interview envelope.
It's going great until I catch
my reflection in a display cabinet –
the one with the red haired man
mummified in sand.
Later I'm on my way back to the Strand
trying to tell myself I'm still cool
when my mobile rings –
she's ready now and wants to go shopping.
I didn't know I was supposed to wait outside.
© Jan Petersen
Published in Iota 79 |