bus
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I remember the grey slithers of rain,
The jocular driver,
As I boarded the bus
At Temple Meads,
And the friendly lady who told me
When we had arrived at the city centre,
Bus people really have a lot of time to think.. Weary, they are always on the brink of knowing what's it's all about. Bumping, heaving, sleeve-to-sleeving their way to work. Yearning to be back in bed, learning they are spiritually dead.. And all
A Brooklyn bus is always the same,
Bubblegum under seats,
Crossed legs blonde in front of you
Years has is it become
Seeing eye to eye
But very words
Gave thrills and shrills
To both, separated
By approx. of 618.6 km
And taking a 8 hour long travel
Reaching by 7 in the morn
The darkness outside shines in through the lining of windows
The humid air smells of hard work
The quick flash of a cell phone, a camera
Lighting up the merry faces of battle-worm winners.
Everyday I ride the bus
I sit behind a petite blonde girl
Her freshly straightened hair glistens in the sunlight through tinted windows
And her perfume is breath taking, some sort of magical peach aroma
Tomato cheeks,
Sparking hair,
disarrayed cloth,
empty chair,
young cold,
filing lines,
full chair,
similar voice,
no face,
one blue sky,
pairs of shoes,
The bus clanks and shudders along the broken roads;
My pencil jerks from my hand,
And the broken roads are mirrored in line breaking
My page with its marred stroke.
My eraser jumps across the page as I erase
I left my house unaware,
Ignorant of watch and clock.
Fleeing my home with uncombed hair,
I saw it pass the block.
I saw the streak of orange yellow,
10 seconds and 30 feet ahead,
I used to endure the bus alone.
Leather seats towered
over me as I huddled in the corner,
as close to the window as possible.
I stared
at the scenes traveling
past the glass,
They smile and they giggle
And the back is filled with bumps.
His hands on the the wheels and each
turn is smooth as silk.
It weaves a brilliant spiderweb
Through the mornings, after
school.
The bus windows lets me stare
at all those people that give no care.
Why should I stand when I pay the same fare?
We live here too, it's not your lair.
In a bus, in the city of Montgomery,
A woman came aboard.
Little did anyone know at the time,
That this woman would change the world.
