On Buses (Again) Poem by C Richard Miles

Why is it when you're in a rush,
The blooming bus
Just crawls along? Is it because it knows
That slow
Will just annoy you?
While when you're unconcerned
With time to burn
It needs
To speed
At such an unprecedented rate,
A thing you hate
That will
Mean you'll have hours of time to kill,
When you arrive too early.
Really,
There's nothing worse
Or more perverse
Than public transport.
I'm caught
Between two stools; I ought
To take a more phlegmatic view
It's true.
But there's something cathartic, a moan
Seems to atone
For all the stress,
I must confess.