"Bus Ride - A Thousand Scents" (Entry 55)

Stop and start,
journey and jot.
On at station 'A' to take me to 'Z'
which is a long way to be.

Strangers wrapped in coats and their own lives
bustled on and off
at various stops
to carry on with their carrying ons.

Enjoy the trip and diesel smells
mixed with the odours of bodies
which linger on longer than their owners
to dissipate at points of their own wanting.

Some scents travel on the bus forever.
Maybe stuck to sticky floor of unknown origin
or attach to harden gum left beneath the seat
by teenager or tobacco kicker.
Foetor saturate fibres of the travelling tin can itself.

Sink further into the scratchy seat to join them
and leave part of yourself behind.
Detach hands from metal bars taking with you
the germs of the thousand others who gripped before you.
Take it, it's a gift, you've left part of you in return.
Your sacrifice to timetabled toured track.

The brakes scream.
The bus jolts.
The doors hiss, "Get out!"

You have reached your destination.

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We've reached 55 poems. Only 500 to go!