World Conditions and Action Items
Home About Music Poetry Links To Some Good Sites Michael's Blog

While Waiting for a Bus Sometime in the Sixties Somewhere in the South

A man came up to me
and said, without a smile,
“Hey, friend, I need some cash!”
I told him I was wild.

Then further on I walked,
until I met a girl
whose skin was black as night,
whose hair had natural curls.

She wanted me to hold
a picket sign she had.
And then she said, “Sit down,
it makes the governor mad.”

And, so, I sat in front
of a doorway which led
to a restaurant
where just a few are fed.

A cop then grabbed my shirt
and threw me off the street,
then, dragged me off to jail,
there, he said, I'd eat.

He then gave me a card
which he warned not to burn.
I said I didn't know,
he said I'd quickly learn.

I said I didn't know
a thing about this war.
He, then, gave me a choice
of either jail or war.

I quickly chose the jail,
at least I wouldn't die
from bullets, bombs and blood,
and, then, we shook good-bye.

I, now, again am free,
two months have passed since then.
I sweat the war no more,
the cops are kindly men.

COPYRIGHT 2005 by Michael Bonanno
LOC Reg. #TXu934-647

Reproduction of “While
Waiting for a Bus Sometime
in the Sixties Somewhere in
the South” or any part
therein without the
express written permission
of Michael Bonanno is
prohibited unless the
reproduction meets The
Copyright Act “fair use”
doctrine, (title 17, U. S. Code)..

Serious, Mature Feedback Encouraged

Home                     About Michael                       Poetry                MICHAEL'S BOOK OF POETRY
                                                                                        (and some other assorted foolish verses)