Bus - Unconventional Minimalist Poems about the Human Condition

Bus

I saw her on a bus travelling down
A busy thoroughfare, on the way to
A bustling downtown. Our eyes met and
We exchanged a smile. She stood up,
Brushed a strand of auburn hair off her face,
Rang the bell, and got off at the next stop.

As the bus drove away our eyes met again.
My mind in turmoil, I hastily approached
The bus driver and asked to be let off
Between stops. I’m sorry sir, that’s against
The rules, he said deadpan, staring straight ahead.
The next stop too far away.


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Poetry by Guy Farmer