It is near dark.

It is near dark.

The overhead lights barely smoulder,

The filaments glow

A milky yellow.

And what little light they create

Scarcely scorches the shadows

That prowl at the edges.

The old bus rattles and bounces,

Its wheels seek out every pothole

In the black top,

Which stops being fun after a while

It is worse in the back seat

But I needed the space.

Aside from

The girl sleeping in the corner,

Her head lolling over

With every bend in the road

I am the only passenger

Wearing deodorant.

If I sat up front with the driver

It would be a smoother ride

And the air would be fresher.

But I would have been caught

In the headlights,

Mesmerised by the images,

Silhouettes and broadsides,

Trying to figure them out,

Wasting my time,

Staying awake.

And I am just so tired.

I want to sleep,

But every time my head

Nods down

The bus bucks, the girls hair

Brushes my face and I jolt up…

It was easier to dream,

Leaning the chair back

Against the wall on two legs.

The board chalk could still reach

And the teacher was a good shot

But I was never so far gone

I couldn’t duck.

…The air is stale

Flatulence is a real turn off

In long haul

And sleeping people

Have no control.

But this is all I can afford

And I need to get home.

It has been too long,

The journey has lasted a lifetime.

It needs to end soon,

Before the air runs out

And the darkness

Finally closes in.