ONTHEBUS


When you’re on a big city bus
in an off hour it’s a very lonely place
it’s dark outside
while you sit under jailhouse bright lights
and nobody talks

no suits on the bus
only the people who really have to be there
a waitress from the pancake house
a broken old man sipping White Port from a brown bag
a wild-eyed lady who lives out of her bag
and a kid with ill-fitting thrift store suit
bad choice of tie probably sells stereos at Circuit City
and of course the bus driver
who has long since given up on being polite

they’re on their way home to
shabby rooms
shabby husbands
park benches
and they stare out into the night not seeing

the drunk is singing a Sinatra tune

     "I‘ve been up and down
     and over and under if
     you know what I mean"

no one notices, they’re too tired
and they’ve heard it all before

I missed my stop a long time ago
I was on my way to an AA meeting
I get off on South Ashland
I hear Spanish music coming from a dark empty bar
I don’t speak the language
here I can drink undisturbed and alone

 

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