Yesterday the metropolitan bus system was on strike. In theory, they are required to offer a fixed minimum service, something like 50% of the usual bus frequency. If you take public transport, you’ve been there, and you know that minimum seems like none. This jingle came to me this morning as I waited for the bus.
The woman in front of me melted
as we stood waiting in line.
(It wasn’t exactly a party;
We’d been there a very long time.)
I reached out and tried to support her,
grasping for some solid bit
so a doctor somewhere might rebuild her.
(In theory all you need is a rib.)
The bus was arriving!
Our wait finally over!
“You’re melting too soon!”,
I heard myself scold her.
My efforts were fruitless.
She was already gone.
Just a spot on the sidewalk.
The line had moved on.