*
This poem was written after my ex-wife and I had an experience at a rest stop with a bus whose driver we thought was trying to force us to stop our car before we could exit the place.
We stopped at a rest stop in South Carolina to get some sleep and when we woke up - there were no other cars there except for this bus that was parked almost directly behind our car.
The bus was a converted school bus that was painted tan and had all the windows painted black (or boarded up - couldn't tell). The cab windows were tinted - so you couldn't see anybody inside. We both got this eerie feeling we were being watched and decided it was time to bug out.
So we started up the car and immediately the bus's lights came on. As we started to back out - the bus started to roll forward in a way that almost suggested that the driver was trying to block us from backing out at all.
As we started to pull out - the bus was in front of us. The parking lot narrowed ahead to a one lane onramp to the freeway. We realized that if the bus was ahead of us when the road narrowed - it would effectively block any way for us to get out. At that point we popped the curb and passed the bus - feeling the whole way home that we had escaped something evil - whether it had all been our overactive imaginations or not.
This poem was written to convey the feeling that I think we both felt. It was written within a day or two of the actual event.
We stopped at a rest stop in South Carolina to get some sleep and when we woke up - there were no other cars there except for this bus that was parked almost directly behind our car.
The bus was a converted school bus that was painted tan and had all the windows painted black (or boarded up - couldn't tell). The cab windows were tinted - so you couldn't see anybody inside. We both got this eerie feeling we were being watched and decided it was time to bug out.
So we started up the car and immediately the bus's lights came on. As we started to back out - the bus started to roll forward in a way that almost suggested that the driver was trying to block us from backing out at all.
As we started to pull out - the bus was in front of us. The parking lot narrowed ahead to a one lane onramp to the freeway. We realized that if the bus was ahead of us when the road narrowed - it would effectively block any way for us to get out. At that point we popped the curb and passed the bus - feeling the whole way home that we had escaped something evil - whether it had all been our overactive imaginations or not.
This poem was written to convey the feeling that I think we both felt. It was written within a day or two of the actual event.
*
The Bus
A bus with blackened windows
Sits motionless and still
Quietly observing
With its own determined will
Thinking only of its inner thirst.
A twisted mean desire
Brought on by unknown demons
Twisting up from flaming fires.
Evil whispers to me,
Strained, repressed and angry
From just the other side
Of windows painted black
As the mind behind the panes
Stares out wide-eyed yet unseen
At the life beyond where hatred
Will manifest itself tonight.
Screams are deftly muzzled
By hands skilled through
trial and error
Pain distorts ghosts' faces
From evenings past filled with pure terror.
There is no life, there is no joy
Only pain and death in there.
Don't let your guard down
When you see the bus without a driver.
***
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