poem of the day 03.03.14

the loneliest man on the morning bus

no one sits next to me on the bus

not ever

this isn’t a complaint but a fact

the bus could be crowded

yet the seat next to me is left unoccupied

with people standing and getting knocked around

by potholes on the street

even the elderly won’t give me a shot

i don’t know what it is about me

i used to think maybe it was that i was fat

and took up too much room

or that i was ugly or smelled bad

but there is much worse on the bus than i

the only conclusion that i can come up with

is that i simply do not exude

the dopey charisma and go getter vibe

that it takes to make it on weekday mornings in america

and that these people who sneer at me

and chose to stand

rather than sit in relative comfort

can plainly see the failure

and lack of ambition that must flow from me

like a niagara falls of catastrophe

as we all ride this trap

toward our work-a-day fate

…or maybe i’m wrong

and i really do smell