April
24, 1984
9:15 p.m. 
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Bus People Ballet
They greet each other mechanically
Well oiled - ready for the day
They spend the minutes
idly conversing
reading the paper
sneaking a donut
They play the same ritual daily
And if a player is missing one day
He is discussed by the others
And the same people curse
When the bus arrives late
as it does every day
But they never take
the earlier bus
copyright 1999-2005 by Michael F. Nyiri
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