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WAITING   FOR   THE   BUS

At the metal pole with the “transit logo”
Line of six, then rapidly  me, and  now twelve – 
All looking in the same direction- down the  street-desert.
Like apostles  awaiting the second coming of the saviour. 
Straining eyes to see the number as a vehicle approaches
No,  a mirage  -   it’s just  big truck.
             

Wrist watches are consulted, handbags runmmaged in
Newspapers glanced at,  and folded.
Children whine and struggle to be unhanded.
Rain starts  and  umbrellas are unsheathed.
I duck to protect my eyes  from a lethal woman
and shiver as her droplets run down my collar
We  all turn at the sound of a bus going the other way 
A  dozen  cats all watching a grounded bird

No one is certain of the bus times
A man with glasses consults  his pocket  timetable 
It comes once a day at 5 30
But only on odd dates in months with an “r”  in them -
Or some such formula.
Might as well consult an astrologer’s handbook.

It comes at last.  Only the first  two please.   Full  up.        
There’s another right behind…yeah,  right…….
Should have walked.

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