Late on Time Again

Tuesday morning grey and damp
Making tracks to town
Checking watches, stamping feet
The bus has let us down.
A suited man he grumbles
The lady coughs polite
Two students hide their mumbles
 “We could be here ‘til night”.
Just as our patience withers
Resenting company
Around the corner trundles
The expected 1-0-3.
“At last” and “Well now” uttered
The disgruntled share their thoughts
To a stop with a gentle stutter
Our carriage pulls up short.
The 8:05 at 8:16
Late again as it’s always been
Behind it now the 8:09
Two together, as all the time.
“After you” and “Ladies first”
Change and travel cards
The driver long since lost his thirst
We lurch the first few yards.
“Plenty of room now down the back”
Unwillingly we inch
Excuse me” “Sorry…was that your foot?”
The internal, migrant grinch.
Bodies close and heavy
Short breaths and dampness true
Windows steamed up steady
A hand wipes one to view.
Ignoring one another
‘til we reach our point of leave
The 1-0-3 reflecting
The life so far, so weaved.

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