The Bus Driver
A poem about a career bus driver.
The bus driver hated his job
was bored of driving his hotel shuttle route
and waiting for riders always coming late to their shuttle reservations
delaying his route and getting him off schedule
which made future riders angry with him
blaming him for coming late
as they also said wait wait
we have two more colleagues still upstairs
and today his pot over-bubbled
and he closed the sliding door and put it in drive
when out the lobby door ran the last lady colleagues
holding coffee shop coffees
coffees which made them late
and they ran up to the bus and banged on the door
but he protested their lack of timeliness through the glass
shouting out he had a schedule to keep
and tapped his finger on his watch
“but she’s pregnant” yelled out one of the ladies
and the driver looked at the bigger one’s belly
rolled his eyes
put the bus in park
jerked the door open
and announced quite bluntly “only the pregnant one”
and she got on and he closed the door quick behind her
and drove away satisfied at least one tardy hotel guest
would learn a lesson.
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The other day in St. Petersburg, the driver deliberately drowned passengers in the river, he jumped out of the window himself, and did not open the entrance doors. He was clearly visible - his focused maneuver.