The bus pulls up,
i climb aboard,
i put 75 cents in the dash board.
I look around for any pretty ladies,
i see 2 it's gravy.
I sit down and spark a conversation,
let the lady know i tired of masterbation.
I ride the bus all day cause i don't have a job.
I look out the window and daydream,
about being a boss in a crime mob.
The roar of the wheels sometimes puts me to sleep,
wake up in a sweet from the scorching heat.
The bus ride is my life,
and life isn't bad.
I'll never regret,
the bus life i've had.
A contest entry
- QUICKIE, ENDS SUNDAY by TheRoughDraft.
380 points, ended April 20, 2008, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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Its ok, although there are a few inconsistencies. If he is a boss of a crime mob wouldn't he have enough money for a car? And the 'masterbation' bit is a bit tastelessly done in my opinion...
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