On the rare occasion I travel by bus,
The experience fills me with fear.
It’s not that I’m scared of the vehicle itself –
I’d just like to get that fact clear.

No, it’s not getting stuck in the traffic,
Though that can make it much worse,
As the longer the journey I have to endure,
I’d rather be stuck in a hearse.

The longer I’m stuck on the bus, you see,
The more likely that I could be seen!
As a girl in her 20’s that does have a car,
I’ve a rep that I need to keep clean!

I’m only getting the bus today
As I need to get to the station,
And it costs a small fortune to park my car there,
So I thought I’d avoid the frustration.

Now I patiently wait at the bus stop,
Glad of the tenner I’ve saved,
But more and more people I see driving past,
And I’m certain that one of them waved…

I jump at the sound of a horn beep,
And feel my cheeks glowing red-
I pray that the rude sound was not aimed at me;
But the lady beside me instead.

A gentleman joins us on crutches,
Then a lady with her shih tzu,
The average age of the passengers here
Is probably 102.

I peer up the hill in the distance,
Relieved as I spot our blue ride,
But the fear soon comes back in a hurry
When I see all the people inside.

What if somebody knows me?
What if there’s not a seat spare?
I’m bound to be stuck with the guy with BO,
Or the one with the long greasy hair…

Thank goodness there is still a side-seat;
One of those that you have to fold down.
I hold on for dear life as we speed around corners,
Eternally grateful we’re not far from town.

Each time the bus brakes I’m thankful,
That on that seat I’m still secure.
Struggling over the speed-bumps and potholes,
I’m not sure how much of this I can endure.

At last it’s approaching the station,
So I reach out to push the “stop” bell.
As it slows I jump up and grab hold of the railing,
Excited to finish the journey from hell.

As soon as the doors squeak open,
I make sure my exit is swift,
But I’m greeted by none other than my step-dad:
“You should’ve just asked – I’d have given you a lift.”

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