Licton Springs Review

Why I Prefer the 174 By Tammy Mae McPherson

It isnÕt all that crowded
On the express route;
No one offers up their seat
To a woman with three children,
Because there are no crying children
On that bus,
No heated arguments,
No healthy
Conversation whatsoever,
No sneaked-on cigarettes,
No scent of urine, wine or beer,
No dirty diapers,
No perfume.
No aromas from the
Restaurants we pass.
(No restaurants).

The smell is sterile:
Disinfectant and
Exhaust.

Nobody brings along his
Dog, promiscuous or muzzled.
IÕve seen only Service Dogs,
If that.

Nobody ever gets kicked
Off that bus.
On the Freeway, drivers never even
Threaten.
I guess people know the penalty
For misbehavior
On That Bus.

People read, but not
For classes. They like
Shutting out
The World.

Everyone who even listens to
Music
Wears headphones,
Turns the Volume
Down.

The drivers,
Good or bad,
Never change,
Mid-route.

There are no
Loud cell-
Phone conversations,
No eating,
No alcoholic beverages
Consumed.
No Self-Portraits
Line the walls;
There is no Poetry, on the 194:
No joie de vivre.
The windows are always
Closed.
No one breathes.
Oh, yes,
I know,
ItÕs faster,
But it will never
Take me home.

The only bus that stops
At my stop,
Within one block,
Is this one:
The 174.

Take it!
Talk to me about
Poetry.