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Writer's pictureMorgan Fagg

The Last Bus


Lonely is my bus stop wait,

Secluded from the small town of Molino de la Hoz, I wait.

My bus stop lies atop a bridge

poorly lit by three street lights in the distance

Adequate lamp, one would think,

White shirt, black trousers

and coloured in those new neon lights

of shiny new automobiles.


The shadows dance as I blink.

The trees hustle as their leaves, leave their autumn skin.


The ambulances sing as they pass,

their blue light falling on the dusty street and I think.

What horrors lie behind the trees, what graves are buried beneath my feet?


Would anyone notice me at all?

The screaming cars with their neon lights,

the motorbikes and the pilot inside his metal lid.


But I'm not alone I think.

I hear the rustle of feet beneath the bridge,

the coke can thrashed and echoed as the police car passes.

A scary night for me to meet

A stranger dressed as a monster

From head to feet

Halloween is fun for friends to meet,

Dressed in capes and ghostly sheets


All alone, as cars speed pass,

the airplane crosses the lonely sky,

Who would notice me if I died?

What devil dressed man approaches

and how does a vampire greet someone

he is about to eat?


These are just some of the things I think

When I'm ready to sink my teeth and drink


Hungry and thirsty

I wait for you all alone,

born 90 years ago

Wearing a black satan cape


See you on the night bus

On Halloween




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