Just a poem that popped in my mind while thinking about when I used to travel by greyhound buses.
He was sitting on a bus stop bench
In the cold Mississippi rain
It was coming down like crazy, man
Soaking through everything
including the last bit of road food
he’d thought to bring,
It was half a breakfast burrito
it was just leftovers anyway,
He was relieved at last,
when his bus finally came
He said one more hour of that
torrent would’ve driven me insane
By: J.N.R Dutton
