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.