Waiting For the Bus
WAITING FOR THE BUS
At the metal pole with the “transit logo”
Line of six, then rapidly me, and now twelve –
All looking in the same direction- down the street-desert.
Like apostles awaiting the second coming of the saviour.
Straining eyes to see the number as a vehicle approaches
No, a mirage - it’s just big truck.
Wrist watches are consulted, handbags runmmaged in
Newspapers glanced at, and folded.
Children whine and struggle to be unhanded.
Rain starts and umbrellas are unsheathed.
I duck to protect my eyes from a lethal woman
and shiver as her droplets run down my collar
We all turn at the sound of a bus going the other way
A dozen cats all watching a grounded bird
No one is certain of the bus times
A man with glasses consults his pocket timetable
It comes once a day at 5 30
But only on odd dates in months with an “r” in them -
Or some such formula.
Might as well consult an astrologer’s handbook.
It comes at last. Only the first two please. Full up.
There’s another right behind…yeah, right…….
Should have walked.
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
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