The Poetry Bus: Where's the Bus Stop? Is It Monday? Who's Driving?

Well, it's Poetry Bus time and confusion reigns with Niamh!
The challenge was to write about confusion, and I have Domestic Oubliette to thank for this one. Her last post took me back to times I would very much like to forget, when days rolled into nights and I lost a lot of my mind...

Other confused minds may be found here:
http://variouscushions.blogspot.com/2010/07/bus-departs-wheres-your-ticket.html

The Ring-Pull Can

The kitchen is grey, and grey, and grey.
It was turquoise and orange.
Clock. 3 am.
Why? I know I must eat.
Cupboard, bearing,
baked beans,
I find the tin-opener, and pierce
a ring-pull can of Heinz.
Eat two spoons cold
standing at the sink.
I sway, and pray.
It is them.
They are mine ergo I love them.
They are here; I want them gone.
Something is wrong.