Dread converts into disgust and hate;
Counting the minutes of the hours,
foot to foot in the hot bus
crawling up Old Hope Road
Slower than 'soon come' we go towards the mountains
the distant thought of re-using this sweat-soaked shirt dies.
The 'ductress shouts out to the bus,
"Unno give de baby mutha a seat!"
And someone pushes into the standing mob.
A girl who should be in a school uniform,
With what should be her baby sister,
takes the empty seat.
Suddenly the fetid, cramped bus
Is a very small inconvenience.
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