This Bus Driver

This bus driver waves
when he sees me coming
Pulls around early
when he sees that I’m cold

Never pulls away if
he sees me running
Digs through his cooler
like he’s panning for gold

Pulls out a candy bar
splits it in half and
Tells me all about
the route he drives

While we roll around
bus driver makes me laugh
and he gives away smiles
and looks so alive

Boy, does this bus driver
love driving buses
he wants me to try it
he says that it’s great

He gets on his route
and never fusses
not once have I heard
from him one word of hate

Three nights a week
for one month of the year
it was this bus driver
that took me home

His last day on my route
he bought us a pizza from
the place that’s his favorite
he says that it’s great.

He drove it around
for two hours uneaten
so that I’d have the first
slice, he’s happy to wait.

I know that it’s Portland
and Portland is friendly
And people like pizza
and nothing is fate, but

This bus driver taught me
that when good things end
you only stop rolling
to celebrate.


1 Comment

Filed under Poetry

One response to “This Bus Driver

  1. Melanie

    Aw! If you get to know some bus drivers, like I did at university, they are so nice!


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