Bus Ride

Shadows slither aboard from below
insecurity strikes the closing doors
escaping thoughts are interrupted as feet climb the stairs
passengers readjusting into tense statues
the sun blazes through the interrogating windows
words of sick beautiful slang rise above the general chatter
authority now clouding over the top deck
lazy joggers and big sweat shirts bounce to their own melodramatic melody
the metal prison stops and the reaper clothed figures vacate
sighs of relief as the casting of evil eyes fades with the turning wheels

By B.L. Crisp