Bus Ride
The winter's torture rumbles down
The street, through my meager abode
And pierces my skin and inflames my bones.
Need to get out of maelstrom for a day,
Perhaps a day long bus ride.
I count my money and I'm a few
Beggings short of the five I need
To ride the system of citizens
Who don't realize they sit in a
Castle meant for a king.
So I dust myself off, look the
Best I can for one of my means.
Put on my gentleman's face, check
My breath for last nights taste and
Position myself so you can't avoid me.
"Hey buddy, got a quarter?" "My
Car is out of gas..." " 'scuse me, dear
Lady, just a quarter so I can eat."
Twenty-five, thirty-five, one dollar!"
With glee on my face and a sprite in my step, I move on.
I take my fiver and purchase a pass.
I feel like a gentleman of sorts with my
Golden ticket to tour this megapolitan
Cage in comfort and warmth from the
Ingredients of a dreary day.
I take a seat in the back, of course
Not wanting to be the object of
Stares and distain, whose
Territory I invaded on this blustery day.
Sorry but I'm riding in style today.
As I doze a little bit from the warmth,
My dreams become congealed with
Reality creating a world of surreal
Rapture of peace. "Hey, driver, there's
A drunken bum on the bus!"
My world becomes shattered with
Those few little words as if I
Actually ought I could be one
Of them for a brief moment
In time, but I suppose not.
So, in despair I climb down
The steps to face the grit of
The storm that rages through the city
And in my heart. Man, I will
Sure miss that bus.
Copyright © Mark Heil | Year Posted 2017
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