LAGOS BUSES

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The rich don’t use public buses
They have too many cars and police escorts
Only the poor like me would you find in buses like this
Thinking the thought of others;
There is a lady here
Beside me on the left—
Who has read her marked God’s book from Mark to Matthew in 5 minutes!
Who does she think she is, a Sybil?
The guy on the extreme right is obviously in love with his own gruffly voice—
Been practicing Acappella all along—(I suggest he sing hymns at burials)
Some love birds (more of love lion and prey) at the back seat
Talking the talk of fools who are about to fall (into the lagoon or) in love—
Saying a whole lot of nothing
I, the old hungry muse is here thinking the thoughts of an idler
We have two sleepers; one behind the other, one of each sex
Sleeping an impossible sleep, in this impossibly wobbly bus
On the third-mainland at sunset on a late October hot Tuesday
Seasoned with assorted peals of vehicle horns
In a mercilessly hopeless clog up!

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