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Bus Window Pain view

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Bus window pain view

I sit on the bus home,
and stare at the people and things I see.
Girls in the street,
friends outside Subway.

The smell of exhaust fumes,
spat out chewing gum and tobacco.

Lazy depressed men,
just lost another tenner
on the horses.

Guys walking home,
the cigarettes falling out their pockets.
“ Got a light?”
“Pass the bucky.”

Ten year olds giving friends the fingers.
And the one man who sits and says,
“This is the world that I live in,
but not the one I want to remember.”

The bus drives on into the setting sun,
the girls at the back play music,
as loud as they can,
swearing obsessively.

And I get the bus window view,
of the world I live in,
and the way things are,
But not the way I want to remember them.



Bus window pane view

I sit on the bus home,
and I stare at the people and things I see.
Girls in the street,
friends outside Subway.

The smell of freshly cut grass,
fresh air and the drivers aftershave.

Mother and kid,
hyper, happy and hopeful,
walking out of the swimming pool,
Mars bar toffee trailing their fingers

Guys walking home,
buying each other onto the bus.
“I’ll buy you on,”
“I owe you.”

Wee girls giggling and laughing.
And the one man who sits and says,
“This is the world that I live in,
and this is how I want to remember it.”

The bus drives on into the setting sun,
the girls at the front sit and talk,
as quiet as they can,
swapping sweets.

And I get the bus window view,
of the world I live in,
and the way things are.
The way I want to remember them.





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