leaving lines of wet which corrugated the view
of traffic, walls, windows, roofs and figures
we were passing in the steamed-up bus,
water dripping from brollies, coats and caps
brought in by the latest batch of passengers,
breathing hard and settling onto the public seats
which who knows how filthy they are;
but not a thought to that because here
they are, out of the rain, shopping
bags on laps and around their feet,
glad to have caught the bus and
not had longer to wait in the rain.
Again he wiped the steamed-up window
with the back of his hand, watching out
for bleary landmarks along the route
he knows so well.
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