Counting Minis

‘Can you give it?’

The voice asks over the speakers

And we sit and ignore

Counting Minis like coins

Hoping it will make us rich

She’s sitting in the back

Gloating over our shoulders

Because she’s winning

And I grow sick of the

Sound of her sickly voice

So I’ll stare out the window

Away from the passing cars

At the passing trees

Which I value more

‘If you’ve got no kind words to say’

She looks up for a moment

And I catch her eye

‘You should say nothing more at all’

She falls silent.