Deploring bus drivers for their speeds,
sure as they race giant hybrids
down the steep,
dark with sparkles
in shades of gray,
city streets, swarming with
the beautiful people,
they are going to murder,
smash
an innocent pedestrian.
thirty-two oh eight, nineteen seventy-two,
thirty-four ninety-seven,
I take their numbers.
Surely, http://www.kcata.org
has the “How Am I
Driving” form, a public danger process,
but realizing I am only a child,
a mouse in a man’s world, I know
my grievances are not worthy,
and I absorb the deep,
hybrid air full of evil.
-
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stillfugue 
#1 by scribbla on October 1, 2011 - 4:45 pm
Mmmmmmm. We would never end with the complaining if it got us somewhere. Mmmmmmm.
#2 by Carl on October 3, 2011 - 9:05 pm
Yes, it seems many think that complaining does get us somewhere!
#3 by Carl D'Agostino on October 1, 2011 - 6:24 pm
You are really not talking about buses at all. I see it.
#4 by Carl on October 3, 2011 - 9:05 pm
I appreciate your comment. I hope you see more than I know.
#5 by Evelyn on October 1, 2011 - 7:39 pm
“Deploring bus drivers’ for their speed machines,
sure as they race giant hybrid schemes
down the steep, deep
dark with sparks…”
I like this poem. it was fun to tinker with…
I like the bus.
#6 by Carl on October 3, 2011 - 9:06 pm
You tinker well.
#7 by Kay Camden on October 4, 2011 - 10:30 am
Oh no, other Carl, Carl is definitely talking about buses. I’m going to be thinking about this poem on my walk today instead of the usual expletives when the buses are flying like devils around me.
#8 by Carl on October 5, 2011 - 10:07 pm
HAHA! I’m starting to wonder if I know what a bus is…………………