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About This Poem
Bus Ride
I glance at my watch,
Shake my head at the hands,
And count silver cars
While I patiently stand.
Three minutes, Five minutes,
Ten minutes late.
Time ticks away,
And still I must wait.
Traffic flows by
Like an ocean of steel,
Pausing at times -
Liquid automobiles.
I laugh to myself:
Who would have presumed?
Environmentalists
Forced to inhale the fumes!
It comes into view:
The great whale of this sea.
It sprays its exhaust -
Remorseless, it seems.
An eager step forth -
But its presence misleads.
My sigh is a cloud.
"Out of service," it reads.
Minutes tick by,
Till its cousin arrives
And opens its doors
To admit our grim line.
We pack ourselves in,
Like sardines in a can.
No free seat in sight -
So we awkwardly stand.
By the time I can see
My stop up ahead,
I'm an hour behind
And my feet feel like lead.
I push my way off,
As if freed from a jail.
Now I know Ahab's pain -
To be wronged by a whale.
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