We Are The People
On the bus
The vast majority of us
Stand next to others we don’t know
Strange faces . . . colors, smells, beliefs
The other people
Crowded on a pre-dawn morning
On our way to work
Then home again—and maybe later
Two days off
Or not.
We have known dismal, late night rides . . . almost alone
Or waiting for the next one coming by
We do this almost without second thought
Simple necessity of life and
Lack of money, chauffeurs, maids
We are the maids, chauffeurs
Blue and white collars
Making world go round
Clean up the mess—pay taxes
Fight the wars
For those
Who never stood beside us.
So it goes.
Bionote
Bruce Louis Dodson is an American expat living in Borlänge, Sweden. Recent work has appeared in: Foreign & Far Away Anthology, Trip of a Lifetime Anthology, Pirene’s Fountain, Tic Toc Anthology, Litro Magazine, Cordite Poetry Review, Buffalo Almanac, So It Goes, Maintenant, Permafrost, Whitefish Review, Pure Slush, and Dash Literary Journal.
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