return fair

people parked their rosy behinds illegally
on front seats behind and in front of me
making the future of young’uns free to choose
to sit where on a bus,
they’d paid fare on by us.

gangs angst-ridden rush brush past
me rudely down the gangway
grey hoods, air max and flat beaked hats
just to go back, to the back.
even though it states clearly above
not to run, disrupt, or distract
the driver whilst the vehicle, is in motion.
notion is, i expect i’d act like that if i dint know better
remember ‘you don’t know where you’re going unless you know where you’ve been’
i can’t blame them for that.
who’s gonna teach them? the schools?
history aint nuthin but an account of an event dependent on who’s tellin it.
and everybody got a story, and everybody likes to be the hero, if you get what i mean.
we should get to writing our own books.

i try talk to them sometimes, little brothers and sisters, if there aint too many, tellem

“it’s the hardest place to see where you’re going and the furthest away from
the driver seat or exits”.

The world is your oyster card.

maybe im getting old.