Bus Driver’s Lament
by Stephanie Mesler
As the public servant on express route 59,
I reported to work in uniform prepared to do my time.
I drove weekdays through the city facing traffic fierce and wild
so that you could read the paper, traveling serenely and unriled.
But then there was a problem that wrecked my working hours.
It was a tad embarrassing and left me somewhat dour.
Its a secret I’ve been keeping, even from my wife,
who left me cuz I’ve closed her out, not really sharing life.
There is a pimple on my butt that will not go away
It appeared first in December and was still around in May
It is big and white and juicy, a seeping mound of puss
that hurts me when I sit on it as I drive the bus.
I asked them at the station for a standing steering wheel
something like a boat might have really had appeal.
They laughed at the request and thought it was a joke;
the dispatch even asked me what weeds I liked to smoke.
I took it to the doctor, my festered oozing sore.
He gave me medication which stung my inflamed pours.
He sent me to a surgeon who poked it with a pin.
it drained a stream of venom but filled right up again.
So now I have decided to accept the ugly truth
this pimple is forever, like winter in Duluth.
I’ve put in for retirement and filed for a divorce.
I am sailing round the world today, standing up, of course.
by Stephanie Mesler
As the public servant on express route 59,
I reported to work in uniform prepared to do my time.
I drove weekdays through the city facing traffic fierce and wild
so that you could read the paper, traveling serenely and unriled.
But then there was a problem that wrecked my working hours.
It was a tad embarrassing and left me somewhat dour.
Its a secret I’ve been keeping, even from my wife,
who left me cuz I’ve closed her out, not really sharing life.
There is a pimple on my butt that will not go away
It appeared first in December and was still around in May
It is big and white and juicy, a seeping mound of puss
that hurts me when I sit on it as I drive the bus.
I asked them at the station for a standing steering wheel
something like a boat might have really had appeal.
They laughed at the request and thought it was a joke;
the dispatch even asked me what weeds I liked to smoke.
I took it to the doctor, my festered oozing sore.
He gave me medication which stung my inflamed pours.
He sent me to a surgeon who poked it with a pin.
it drained a stream of venom but filled right up again.
So now I have decided to accept the ugly truth
this pimple is forever, like winter in Duluth.
I’ve put in for retirement and filed for a divorce.
I am sailing round the world today, standing up, of course.
