Tuesday, November 27, 2012

U of M Buses

I wrote this free form poem back in 2011, after four years of having to ride buses to and from campus everyday. This is how I feel about riding those fucking buses:

(c) A.F. 9/29/11 
Public Transportation

Stuffy. Hot.
Fifty plus bodies packed like sardines inside a too-small can. 
Somebody's hair in your eye.
Somebody's bag in your face.
The air is stifling; 
A mixture of sweaty gym socks, spicy body odor, and rancid breath.
A dirty laundry smell -
Like scratch 'n' sniff pizza.
A dozen layered conversations.
The squeaky-screeching of the breaks.
The click-click-clack of texting.
The crinkle of a soda can.
A claustrophobic's nightmare.
The rattling of windows.
The rush of passing cars.
Thirty minutes...Twenty minutes...Fifteen minutes...
Your destination like a beacon in the distance.
The longing taste of fresh air. 
Of open space.
Of freedom.
This place is like a mass grave -
All you can do is try to claw your way out.
Push through the horde to the great blue sky. 

(c) A.F. 9/29/11

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