If I had a £ for every time
I’ve heard fellow passengers,
On their mobiles,
Say: ‘I’m on the bus…’
I’d have burst pockets
And enough cash
To buy a gold-plated bus,
Which I could drive into bus queues
Of mobile phone users—losers:
Moaning about how late the bus is,
Who, when the bus arrives,
Still aren’t prepared for it,
Fumbling for their tickets or some change,
They look ugly, fat, stupid and strange.
Free association styled prose from Julian Cloran, visual artist, writer, poet and agent provocateur. Random musings, which are sometimes cynical, but always intended for amusement, stimulation and entertainment. Comments are welcomed so don't be shy. Simply click on 'comments' to post yours.
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