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Bus ride

With another morning

Comes another trip on the U buses, 

For the love of all that’s academic. 

Though I shouldn’t assume such consistency – 

These buses are a capricious bunch. 


Once the bus does roll to my stop, 

And the bout of fear passes, 

I get on safe in the knowledge

That my passage to work is secured, 

Despite how used the air will become 

A few stops later. 


I’m always aware of the slog that I’ll meet, 

Yet the bus ride always disarms me: 


With its cosy heat wrapping 

Restfully around my matted-clothed body; 

Its smooth tremors, gently jolting 

The muscles that have surrendered 

To the seat’s leanings; 

Its subtle sways thanks to the soft

Meanders found on this familiar course – 

A course whose rhythm is 

Flushed with more welcome than boredom, 


As thoughts relinquish their

Hold on study, 

Lulling my eyelids to closure. 


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