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.