Monday, July 25, 2011

Taking The #3 Bus

Yeah, it is too hot
To walk
To think
To move
Sweating like a pig
Half stepping
To the bus stop
Trying to find
A smidgen of shade
To hide from
The searing sun
No water
No open stores
No loose change
In my pocket
Head throbbing
Tongue sticking
To the roof of my mouth
Armpits dripping
I can feel beads
Of sweat collecting
In my ass crack
Is that the bus coming
Or is it a mirage
People pass by
Without looking up
Eyes fixed on the pavement
I get out of their way
Yes I see a glint of light
Reflecting off of a windshield
My blurry eyes
Squint to focus
Is that a bus
Or a truck
Or a van
It’s the #3 bus
Shimmering in the heat
My ticket home
Just another block or two
And I will be aboard
I pray the bus
Is air conditioned
And not packed
With the sweaty bodies
Of the home bound commuters
That I share my
Work a day struggle with
I do see
A lot of familiar faces
Worn out with endless hours
Of mind numbing
And often back breaking
Jobs that barely
Cover the food bill
And the rent
Sure it’s a struggle
When was it ever easier
That’s when
I will be lucky
To find a seat
Or else I’ll have to stand
The whole trip
And my legs
Are burning up
With the heat

I board the bus
I recognize the driver
And his girl friend
Who is leaning
Up against him
As the bus makes
It way down the
Familiar streets
I was lucky to find
A seat
My whole body
Sinking into the molded
The floor sticky
With spilled soda pop
I recognize
My fellow passengers
Their rubbery faces
Deep lined
Like wax work masks
Some missing teeth
Some sporting tattoos
Lots of grey hair
Some young mothers
With two
Or three kids
In tow
One kid chewing
On a dipsy doodle
As if it were
Prime sirloin
Washing it down
With food dye colored
Sweet water
A meal with
No nutritional value
Another kid
Badly needs
A diaper change

Hey don’t look at me
I can stand it
If he can

Philadelphia, Pa. 2011

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