15 October 2012
The bus rumbles as it pauses,
Along the busy city street,
Where a traffic jam lies waiting,
Beneath the summer's burning heat.
People shuffle around the vehicles
Around the trucks and past the cars,
Rushing on towards the future,
As one driver wages wars.
Carrying bags and heavy baskets,
Filled with countless, daily wares
They haul them along the pavement,
Not aware of the driver's cares.
And suddenly the loudest choir,
Of car horns high and low,
Van drivers curse at no one,
Middle fingers on the show.
Someone's trying round the corner
To make a daring turn to the left,
But of course nobody lets him,
A crime currently worse than theft.
Shouts now are ringing louder,
A child is crying in the back,
Its mother has rolled down windows,
And patience now she lacks.
Still the road is fatally deadlocked,
The lights still a scarlet red,
The roadworks still a-drilling,
But 'straight on' the satnav said.
Fingers tap upon the steering wheel,
To the song the radio sings,
Some engines have stopped running,
And a wife the husband rings.
The bus ahead is still stalling,
But the people now have hushed,
No point in screaming swear words
In the early morning rush.
And suddenly a sense of quiet,
As the driver stares into space,
Now automatically awaiting,
The beginning of the race.
Then finally the car in front,
Steadies ever slightly on,
The emerald green is shining,
And at last the driver's won.
The Traffic Jam • Opuss № I