Waiting For The Bus, In Jamaica


Dawn slowly colors the Eastern sky
reflections of sunrise paint the sea water
birds sing the song of a new day
dogs bark as cats head home from the prowl

My feet soak in the warm salt water
as I sit on the sea wall waiting
the bus to town is late again today
no one is ever in a hurry here

Off in the distance I see a few small boats
the waves toss them towards the shore
their nets are loaded with today's catch
fresh treats for the sea food lover

Soon the boats will be on land again
the fishermen must sell what they caught
but are willing to trade for things they need
slowly the market place comes alive

Vendors gather in the center of town
wooden tables and booths are set up
fruits, vegetables, breads and cheese are offered
along with fresh fish, meats and ganja

Experience tells me to get to the vendors early
they are always eager to barter
the early bird gets the worm they say
but all I really want is the bus to come

The old man who pushes a wood cart on wheels
loaded with fresh bread and sweet buns
stops at the sea wall to offer me a treat
I ask him to sit for awhile and we talk

He assures me the bus will be here soon
I thank him for the bun and wish him a good day
he has to go set up in the market place
before all the good spots are taken

A few woman who take the bus to town daily
gather near the sea wall talking
they are happy to stand in the shade and wait
the wait is nothing new to them

Children in blue and white school uniforms
play games like Simon Says and jump rope
their books and lunches lay forgotten on the ground
they wish the bus would never come

Men who must take the bus to their jobs
are not happy about the wait like the children
they are slightly hung over from last nights rum
wanting only to turn back the hands of time

The sun's high in the sky now
as the big blue bus rounds the corner
horn blowing to announce it's arrival
a long line of people forms to board

I put my shoes on and gather my things
make my way to the end of the line
pay my seventy-five cents, and find a seat
knowing the ride to town will be a pleasant one

There is always someone to talk to
young ladies interested in an American hippie
Rasta's who swear they have the best of everything
old people with their stories of days gone by

There's conversation and ganja in the air
we make our way East on the old coast road
finally on my way to Montego Bay
on the Blue Danube Morning Bus
©2005 Jim Nasium

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