The Last Bus

‘The answers are within you’,
is not a phrase
you often overhear
in the street
as you hurry along in town.

The rain was pouring down.
It was sudden.
People rushed into doorways
avoiding hail.
The pavements were pooling.
Gutters glugged.

‘Your ability to influence the world
may be greater than you think.’

I turned to see who was speaking.
Someone looked at me.
I shrugged.
I hadn’t said a word.
I realised
someone else had heard.

‘That girl Tracy makes me sick,
acting innocent. I told her
if i see her again, I’ll mark her’

Now we are back to normal.
And here comes the last bus.

 

On the Local Bus

A girl with a tired, sad face
looks down at her blank-eyed child.
I looked at the faces around me,
Stressed, depressed, spirits oppressed,
All were pale and grey.

At the stop by the supermarket
A boy, lithium imbalanced,
plunged up the steps in a rush,
yelling ‘Merry Christmas!’
at the top of his wildly filled lungs.

A modern Bob Scratchit, I thought.
They call them chavs these days.