Cheap, But Late

I love riding the bus; I hate it!
I’m glad there is a bus anyway,
I got to work today, but not home
on the bus, instead friend picked
me up.  I’d like to say nice things
about riding the bus but rather
my head is filled with dread
at the thought of the dreadful
wait, in the rain perhaps or the snow
when the bus is the only way to go.

Detroit, my city, my home, don’t you know
your people got to get around in a timely
fashion and with dignity.  The war on the poor
is still being fought on the bus lines in Detroit,
where the poor man rides cheap, but late.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2010

Poem

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March 9, 2010 at 12:00 PM
Enjoyed reading your poetry today Barbara. Wishing you the best in your writing endeavors always. Love, Carol
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