Another On the Bus Poem - Minneapolis ’03
John Vick
Emily
I told the driver my James is just tall.
What difference does two dollars make
to the city? - Fare’s too high to ride
and my little Netta can’t make the walk..
I wish these bags were heavier;
they don’t feel right
for two weeks’ groceries.
Chuck
I don’t know what the hell
that woman is doing up there.
I have places to be,
this bus is already late,
she’s trying to get that boy on free
and he must be over six foot!
I don’t care if the crackers on this bus
stare at us. I have a beautiful family.
Just look right back at them.
Little one in tow and probably
another on the way. I wonder
how many of my tax dollars
paid for all those groceries?
Damned woman! Take a seat!
I can’t believe the driver let
him on free - at least we’re
moving.
Now what’s she looking at?
The drunk over there is counting
wadded up bills; at ten in the morning!
I think that woman over there,
with a frown framed by a burka,
needs more fiber. I always
smile at those wrapped-up
women. She didn’t smile back.
I’ve got to count my ones out
for girlie bar tips. I’ll bet those
two sissies back there would
change their tunes at Dreamgirls.
Got tanked early, but no liquor served
is the price for full frontal.
Those two men whispering
- want to touch each other.
There’s a brand new security guard
sitting stiff in an ill fitted uniform.
The blue hair matron
- vanity shopping bags
- bossy half smile;
- wondering what my rate is.
I am not a housekeeper.
And those two college girls with
laundry baskets swearing
not to have children young
like me.
Those two coeds could work
a strip club - the blue T-shirt
could pay law school tuition.
The couple signing to each other,
seem pretty harmless.
But the rest, stare like we’re on
the wrong bus,
wrong neighborhood.
There’s that little girl
crying for candy. Her
mother should know better
- wrong bus, wrong neighborhood.
I’m glad James is here
to protect us.
I can’t believe he let that boy
ride free.
