“Kakuri United!” bawls
the stony faced conductor
bottling a day’s worth
preparing the way,
for the looming surge
of tired humans,
anxious to get home
to a meal, a bath and
a much deserved sleep.
The oral orifice of
a young teenage conductor
explodes this phrase
This familiar phrase heard in a din
of clamour and clatter
sets a hundred or so toes leaping
towards a common front;
their owners with a mutual aim-
To fight the battle of entry
against each other.
No more respect for elders,
as the young put courtesy aside,
shoving the old and weak to the side.
No more pride and graceful catwalks;
the struggling swarm can make no room for this.
Shouts, swear words, unconscious jabs
rule the day-like night,
determining the eventual commuters
to sit in the skeletal, so called bus
that dared not crawl the streets
of oyinbo’s land.
The rickety, skeletal, so called bus
is now on its way
with nineteen pairs of human buttocks
packed within its metallic walls
designed ab ovo
to seat ten.