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POETRY: Bus Trip



I can't breathe
The woman on my right- on her laps, three children
Guarded with thick beefy arms
pushing at my small bony ones-my chest cavity contracts
One child is standing- he will stand throughout the trip


Photo credit: Thesheet.ng

I can't breathe- my lungs
Fighting for oxygen in
The stale hot air
Of a small bus crammed with sweating bodies
Why are the windows so small?

I can't think- I can only hear
Loud highlife music blasting from the speakers
Pounding in my ears and
Synced with my heartbeats and
Echoing for days after


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