bus stop blues

Hurry, Hurry up and wait
Is that my bus coming up the road
or is that just the 20 running late?

Nice! This stop has a bench AND a cover,
but wait the shade has been taken
by four screaming kids and one tired mother.

The sun is beating down hot and bright
and the fumes from the cars
are making my head feel light.

Conversations ebb and flow
breaking up the silence
as our waiting party grows.

The city's perfume is an awful mix today;
I am overwhelmed with the acrid smell
caused by cigarettes, sardines, and decay.

Jazz quietly drifts through the air,
as I fight off angry fire ants
and an old lady fixes her fake hair.

We all lean forward at the sound of the brakes,
here comes our bus
a cloud of exhaust in its wake.

Loose change jingles in peoples tired fingers
as everyone gets antsy about the
storm cloud that lingers.

I sit next to an older woman holding bright yellow flowers,
shes a prayer warrior and tells me that in the end,
God has the power.

A drunk man with dimples sits down in urine soaked pants
and tells me he'll fix his saxophone someday,
if he ever gets the chance.

We all talk about our throwaway society and how no-one cares,
and in two stops time we all agree that people rather
buy something new that pay for the repairs.

Settling into silence, I can see my stop come into view,
Pull the cord, thank the driver, and
my journey is almost through.

I step off the cool bus and into the humid air,
and look to the sky cursing
at the light rain that soaks my hair.

Its one more day on the bus, always different than the others
I am already wondering what the next ride will be like
and what new things the journey will uncover.