Stories - Trudie Shannon

The lads on the ferry are raucous, loud
Laughing, talking, shouting
Strings of ‘friendly’ obscenities about
Cars, women, drink
Hang-overs, conquests and pile-ups
Wearing the clothes they slept in
The same that saw them all spruced up
Smelling of aftershave and exuding pheromones
Out on the pull last night.
They dominate the space
Rude, coarse and harmless
Bouncing stories between themselves
Each one racing to out-do the others.
Other passengers, sigh and look heavenward
Saying nothing but oozing disapproval
Features contorted into frowns until …
One lad says
I can’t wait to get home, sleep in my own bed,
Mum’s cooking tea
There’s a pause and a universal sigh of assent.
The other passengers turn to each other
And share a covert smile.

Trudie Shannon