I travelled lonely on the bus

I travelled lonely on the bus

by Michael Redgen

 

I travelled lonely on the bus

That groans and sighs from hard days’ work,

Once filled with crowds who made a fuss,

A host, to smelly idle jerks;

Persistent stink, beneath the lights,

Wailing sirens throughout the night.

Continuous as the Doppler shifts

Drunks stumble to the divvy van,

The stench is worse than grind gearshifts

A long hard stare from driver man:

Cigarette smoke to make you sick,

Nauseous turns when traveling quick.

Driver with the heater on; had

Ancient grease oozing from his skin:

A poet could not but feel bad,

On such a vehicle traveling:

I swayed—and swayed—each time he stopped

Upon the seat in front was propped:

The taste, of body odour sweat

Molecules linger on my tongue,

This last bus home I now regret

When breaks abrupt my body’s flung;

I get off early, don’t complain,

To walk home seasick in the rain.


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