Mona sits on the school bus,
the noise of the other children
seems far away, she is indulging

in her thoughts. Lisa will get
on the bus soon. Her closeness
again. Sitting just here. Next to

me, Mona muses, patting the
seat next to her. The evening
before they had parted after

the tea. The bedroom romp
had filled her up. Each moment
seems to relive in her mind.

She looks out of the window,
passing countryside, cows in
fields, trees, birds. They had

almost drowned in the downpour
of rain from the woods to the
house the afternoon before.

Drenched to the skin. Get out
of those wet clothes, they had
been told by a parent. And they

did so. That started it all off.
Naked and drying. How had it
got that far? She thinks, watching

a ******* the other side of the
aisle of the bus talk about
watching such and such on TV.

She wonders how Lisa feels now.
The day after. After such things,
such sights, such deeds. The bus

draws to a stop. Others get on.
Lisa comes up the aisle and sits
beside her. She smiles and fiddles

with her school bag. Her fingers
nervous, like spiders on the run.
Sleep all right? Mona asks. Yes,

Lisa answers. Their eyes meet.
Mona feels a thump in her breast;
her heart seems to want to burst

open. Lisa leans closer. Dreamt of
you, she whispers. Did you? Mona
says, taking in Lisa lips moving, her

eyes, the nose. Lisa nods. Looks
around her. The bus moves on.
Mona wants to speak but her

mouth seems sealed. Lisa turns
again and looks at her. Seems
strange now seeing her clothed

after the nakedness and kissing
and holding. Lisa puts her hand
over Mona’s, squeezes, touches,

flesh on flesh. Mona breathes
in deeply. The touch, the feel
of her. She thinks of the last kiss

the night before. Not now of
course. Not with others about.
Not here. They seem in a different

world to the others. Adrift on
their own ship, wild seas. Waves
of passion inside. They look away

each to a different horizon. Love
locked. Hands touching, skin on
skin. Father O’Brien would call it sin.