Bus Rides And Ordeals

Bus Rides And Ordeals prose poem

Photo by charlie cars


It’s the long rides from the small towns to the city.

The mesmerizing sceneries of the trip taking the bus on the uneven roads,

Sometimes,unpaved with no asphalt and the road lay carpeted with small rocks and pebbles,

And the bus I am riding churn and crunch, straining to pass these obstacles.
While my fellow passengers,
Sway side to side against my butts to the ride of everyone’s day.

I like sitting beside the windows wherever I can to see the views offered on the dotting hills with small houses fences trees and small carabaos or dogs and farmhouses.

The brisk wind crushing against my cheek and l am forever in motions,

Until it reach the city where the bus slow from an incoming approach of signs and the appearance of big houses and concrete buildings.

Then there is an on rush of peddlers of candies,soft drinks and baskets of rice cakes ,tortillas and cigarettes boarding the bus.

Weary and afflicted with body pains and aches and a slight disorienting dizziness.

I am now grateful for the end of the ride with a sigh of relief.

The ordeal is over as l stepped down the pavement.
Into the bosoms of cops,traffic lights and rows and rows of business establishments and sidewalk vendors hawking their

There are volumes of street cars and thank God,
This is the city and nearby the marketplace.

But most of all to see the girl and the love of my life.

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