Perhaps on a whim,
I take a pilgrimage upon the buses,
Public transport cruise liner,
Past the blank-faced operator,
Sitting comfy amongst trash and the trashy,
Taking in all of the voices,
From my fellow bus ticket colleagues,
The factoids,
The information,
Barely a smirk between us,

Double-decker sardine tin on wheels,
From these cheap fabric thrones,
The views are magnificent,
Grey spires beside grey blocks,
Slate upon grey upon ash,
With a dash of fecal brown for a change,
It’s enough to bring a tear to the eye,
Until my stop beckons,
And those motorised doors open,
I finally escape into that gloomy grey.

Comments
  1. Perfectly captured the experience in poetic finery. 👍👍

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