The Bus Trip Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Bus Trip
We are driving to Cascais on Sunday my wife wants to take
the bus she thinks we are too old to drive 300 miles.
On the bus, you might risk sitting by someone who can`t afford
water or soap that is a low grade working person on his way to
use a spade and whatever to build a trench that keeps the water
away when it is raining

I`m a tonic water socialist and read the Guardian, crystal glasses
and a sneaky fag on the loo. To meet a proper working class person
would shatter my illusion and bring back a memory of my father last time
I saw him it was on a bus and he was drunk.
I will drive- anyway- not long from now I will not be able to they are
putting up obstacles to stop us old ones driving