Things fall apart

….he almost flies past the bus stop, a jagged leaf on the breeze, grey boxers, three-quarters showing, rude boy in white, youngish geezer, good looking council, gets plenty, probably, purpose straining his sinews, angry cry poised in his lungs, target not immediately obvious, suddenly stops, a pear-shaped woman in a blue tank top, over-sized shades, older and mismatched, shoving her pushchair like a secondhand piano, suddenly stops, he leans in angrily, pushes his jaw right up to her face, she doesn’t flinch, his mean whispers inaudible, brief and nasty, he suddenly pivots, flies back past the bus stop, to his life more desirable, you’re not a dad you’re not even a man, she yells after him, he does not glance back at his medusa, his past, she pushes the baggage of their love forward, the only way she can, in the opposite direction….