The Hustler’s Pence

I’m off from work,

My nerves tuned

one-sidedly.

Home, here I come!

I must be there in time

I thought I was safe,

From my boss’s wrath

Racing to catch the cheaper bus

I was wrong.

To harbour such a thought

Futility greets me

As I wait patiently

While the fare glides up.

I have to watch,

For another several hours

It’s already double

Who cares anyway?

Money’s their take

Mine’s the lack.

They all behave

As though to tell me

“Grow up money,

Are you that poor,

to raise peak fare?”

O please, grow up!

I am desperate I may sleep in town.

Unfortunately,

I am not alone.

We are many,

Crowded at the stage

I have to wait for my time

When fare becomes normal.

Many others pass by,

The buses in town,

With excited speeds.

Hooting their trumpet horns

Touts hanging on doors

Swinging like monkeys

On loose branched trees

I thought their exhaust pipes

Were amplified arses

They fart loudly and noisily

Don’t be cheated child

These are no arses

Nor are there planes at bus bay

They are other types of arses

That scoff rude and contempt

Wait you will learn about it

When you grow up, child

*******

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