Poetry Wednesday – Busses

Saskatoon City BussesI read this in a book, so it must be true.

When one person meets someone and thinks,

“This person is nice. I could make a real connection with this other person.”

In something like seventy-three per cent of all cases that person doesn’t ask to see the other person again

out of fear of being rejected.

The really sad part is that in something like seventy-one per cent of such cases the other person

would have said, ‘Yes.’

So only a quarter of all possible connections actually occur.

No one is saying that if these lost connections actually occurred they’d turn into something

beautiful and lasting.

But there is something deeply disheartening about the idea of a

potential human connection

orphaned to the universe.

A connection missed

like a plane or a bus.

 

I’ve heard it said that men are like busses –

If you miss one another will be along shortly.

But what if the one I just missed was a good bus? The kind with air conditioning and pretty blue comfortable seats and a nice driver who calls out the stops?

What if the next one is full of weirdos who smell weird and the seats are covered in that nasty brown plastic that sticks to your legs in the summer and makes fart sounds when you get up to leave?

Pull the bell.

Get off.

Wait for the next one.

It’ll be along shortly.

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