We waited
Quiet
A long time
For what would be ours
For what would pass
As high noon
Breaking the news
As poor
As the bussed itself
Loitering in the company we keep
A mega something
But not a bus
Left to fill in the blank
I wrote this poem, and a few others, while waiting for a Megabus. The Megabus broke down and by the time they got a replacement bus, we had waited about four hours. This would have been my first ride on a Megabus, but the substitute was a standard tour bus. This poem is an ode to the tax of time and inconvenience that poor people pay. Sometimes this tax is also paying more because of poor access, such a higher cost, inner-city grocery stores. I lost spending an afternoon visiting with my Dad. Many other bus riders missed their Megabus connection, either having to wait for the next Megabus the next day or find alternative transportation. I will take the Megabus — or its replacement cousins — again, because I am cheap and poor. Overall, I prefer having more time than money. Sometimes, you just have to spend extra time instead of money. Plus, I find it hard to complain when plan B entails writing more poetry. It was a nice day and I visited with some interesting people. I am grateful to cast my lot with the bus people in the world, as not everybody has that privilege.
