stop the bus

the bus is crowded.
we are
meat in a rolling
sub sandwich
of metal
and fumes.
the driver is in and
out of traffic
like a drunken
sailor
on leave.
it's Friday.
everyone has the look
of a long week
on their faces.
we just want
to get home. get
off this bus,
but there are miles
to go,
stops to stop at
while we spin and creak
down the city
streets.