the lighter sideArchive
A Bus Ride by Damian
“Hoy mate. He shouted, get a move on,
I'm half’hour late!”
Starting my day with some harassment, that's great,
I think.
While driver struggles to change my twenty
I scrabble for change to make fare
And I wish, how I wish
I put change in the same pocket of the same jacket.
“What you doing, for f*%@’s sake!?” the bully yells.
Driver gives me eighteen pounds in 10 pences
Which I drop
And there goes the ticket
Like a leaf to the floor
& I miss it
It slips away.
I sweat and ignore
Some of the coins
Lost by the door
I thank the driver
Move down bus
Past the tyrant
What might happen?
I think
Will he turn on me
Swear at me
hit me?
I sit behind him
No other place
I wait
Nothing
The bus judders two stops
Half a mile or less
Half an hour late man
Who could have walked it in less
Careers to the door
To alight
Slips on stray coins
Someone dropped on the floor
In their haste
From his hate.
He looses his footing
Flies out the door
Onto his back on the pavement floor
Passengers cheer
Driver pops champagne
Or maybe there's just peace
And a sense of justice and relief
As the bus leaves
We glimpse him move from lying
And I smile and think
Even a credit crunch
Can have a silver lining.