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Peter Gilmour

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Second Thoughts

It was an unscheduled stop, the driver
Saying he had a sick relative here
In this crumbled town, he wouldn’t be long,
Though, we were to talk among ourselves
Or admire the view over the bay
To the mountains. Into the sky blue bus
On one of those giddy winds from the south
Warm air came, with smells of drains and coffee
And the sound of sudden laughter — snatched
Moments from wholly other lives. To wait
Not knowing for how long is difficult
For those used to having their daytimes filled
With trips and chat and snacks and little naps,
And of course we had not paid for it,
This stop in a hill town one normally
Only goes through to get to somewhere else.

But when we saw the driver returning,
Hunched and walking gravely, his mind elsewhere,
We wondered at ourselves, thought who is he
And can you drive a bus, your mind elsewhere?

Page(s) 18

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