A Spy

This evening there was a conjunction of Venus & Jupiter & the Moon
Making a smiley face - not to be seen in Australia again until 2036
So I thought i would post a poem. This was written on the bus home.
(The source of all grate poetry)

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She sometimes wished she were dead
Riding on the bus after work
Traveling home, with smashing
Slashing lighting crashing the middle
Distance. The dull twilight of dusk.
Ach! She thought, one can have these
Sentimental cravings, these silly adolescent
Ideas. Fearful of home with her uncaring
Husband and piled bills endless roles
Of cooking cleaning. Maybe she thought
This idea is not so silly after all.
Listening others on the bus, inane
Chatterings of sneezing and sniffing
And coughing on the bus with mobile
Phones and plans for the weekend (plans
She knew went no further than getting
Drunk) Overlistening to them.
She felt like a spy - like a spy
Who wished only simply coldly to die.