People On the Bus

Ladies sitting on a bus with nothing much to discuss Just the daughter’s wedding and the fuss As another passenger gets on the bus The sales are on “jeans and tops” she declares Now she really got a bargain there Idle chatter without any meaning While I sit on the bus idly dreaming The faces telling so many tales For the working man there are no cocktails There isn’t a stretch limo for the poor Or even a taxi that’s for sure People like the bus on a roundabout Accepting not protesting with a shout Being jostled and pushed by the crowd Like automatons nothing proud Accepting mediocrity like a shroud A pimply young youth out for a lark A man who for forty years has been a clerk Both chatting together looking at an advert Exciting young escorts for the convert A child tries to sneak on for free The driver on the lookout uniformed tyranny A cashier from Woolies, who’s name is Shirl Her companion trying to give her a whirl Two excited students chatting in Chinese As the driver says ‘Lady pay your fare please” The woman embarrassed shows her pension card That’s all she gets for working so hard On the production line in the factory at Pritchard The old drunk with sacred flask in pocket When emptied, his courage soars like a rocket The Greek on his way to his second job The giggling girl and her latest heart throb A constant blur of humanity filing in and out Never the rich or the ones with clout Just the deprived the old and the thrifty Over the years a sea of ever changing faces Heading for work, shopping, footie or the races Humanity squeezed into a fourteen ton carriage Jostled and bumped in a never ending marriage.