A Thwack
On the bus we heard a thwack;
The driver kept on going.
I couldn’t really see out back,
But soon, the bus was slowing.
The driver stopped and went to check.
A vehicle, parked double,
Had had his mirror hit the deck;
Our ride could be in trouble.
One woman left the bus and yet,
The rest of us just waited.
No one began to moan or fret,
Our outcome not debated.
A minute passed and he returned
And shrugged, “That car skedaddled.”
If there’s a lesson to be learned:
New Yorkers don’t get rattled.
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