The bus is full.
Mothers cradle daughters on laps
to make more space,
yet still people stand.
Warm air filters in through the open windows,
not stifling, not yet.
It’s early, the first bus of the day.
Another stop, another two passengers
clamber optimistically aboard.
Bounded by water, this thin peninsula
has only one road, stretching out before us,
with no option to retreat.
The conductor dances his way down the aisle,
for everyone must pay,
no matter how long they stay.
But what does it matter? For
tomorrow, we begin once more,
and soon this bus
will have to