The Real Wheels On The Bus

By Zidni Dinia Anugrah

I’m leaning into a damp stale seat

My bags of luggage are beside me

My poor fat purse also used to be there

Am I mad? Don't even ask.

Listen, the babies crying

The kids running

Their moms shouting

I'm aging, I see guys coming in

and out each routes

They're asking people to buy their goods

The other are singing but

No one is dancing, wish I could smash

His rusty strings.

The worse thing? A kid threw up

I could tell what breakfast she ate

this morning, well that stinks.

That's it, enough, call my parents

Pick me up and paying my transit fee

Unless the driver has a heart to let me go

and pay me a taxi.

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Zidni's Poem Collection