The pavement stands beneath me <br />As the bus burns into the stop. <br />My eyes and my ears deceive me <br />And my jaw is compelled to drop <br />As several burberry caps decide that their turn comes before mine. <br />'I was here first, sunshine - get to the back of the f***ing line.' <br /> <br />Perhaps, finally some success <br />As, weary and alone, I ghost on to the bus. <br />'Sorry, mate' The driver says. <br />'There's no room, you ain't comin' with us.' <br />My murderous intent is hard to conceal <br />As the rage builds and some old b*****d fusses. <br />His noise is unheard; it's a standard youth-insulting spiel. <br />It soars straight over my head. <br />Christ, I hate these bloody useless buses.<br /><br />Ed England Rhodes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-really-hate-sheffield-buses/
