Sleeping commuters leave
Ghostly auras amidst
The foggy plastic windows.
They slumber through
The booming snore
Of exhaust-pipes, choking smoke.
Silence. Or closest to.
Even stopped, the Bus roars,
Patiently brooding, growling,
As a wolf in the underbrush
Watching the crimson lights, sharp
Like blood on a pavement.
A small cat, uncollared,
Sprints across the road
But is pounced upon.
The wheels creak,
Commuters stir, and the Bus
Stalks away into the night.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
Sleeping commuters leave
Ghostly auras amidst
The foggy plastic windows.
They slumber through
The booming snore
Of exhaust-pipes, choking smoke.
Silence. Or closest to.
Even stopped, the Bus roars,
Patiently brooding, growling,
As a wolf in the underbrush
Watching the crimson lights, sharp
Like blood on a pavement.
A small cat, uncollared,
Sprints across the road
But is pounced upon.
The wheels creak,
Commuters stir, and the Bus
Stalks away into the night.
A poem about human carelessness.
#27 in the Distant Dystopia anthology.
© Lewis Hyden, 2018
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