Brad Evans's poem "A2B"

© 2022 marie c lecrivain

“Born in Sydney. Been living in the UK since '98. I first began to write poetry from my 17th birthday and have diverse influences ranging far and wide. Some of my poetry and the very odd short story has been published in zines, chapbooks, serials and anthologies in several countries for over 30 years.”

A2B

we waited for the bus

but there was no bus stop,

just 2 faded words -

“B

ST…”

large and painted yellow

that one could barely make out

on the busy road

and so we waited…

wondering if a bus

would appear

and when it did

it looked old and with a route number

I wasn’t familiar with.

we got on

and while paying the fare

I looked at the seated passengers

talking with a rural slowness & ease -

a way that people

don’t tend to talk anymore

and when I enquired with the bus driver

about this unfamiliar service,

she responds in an unhurried way

before I find a seat

the sound of the idling engine

reminding me of a washing machine

on a rinse cycle

and before long the sound changes

as the 4 wheels start moving.

I look around the interior

and there’s very little advertising,

the seats are worn yet comfortable

and when we arrive

at the next stop

a young man steps on board,

tries to pay his fare with a mobile phone

but the bus doesn’t have

his technology and so he disembarks

and when the bus began to move again

I wondered if we were going the right way

but going the right way

didn’t seem to matter anymore.

© 2022 Brad Evans