Bus Poems

• still wonder:
• BUS POEMS
• SINGLE POEM

FROM: NORTHUMBRIA UNI TO: THE LATE SHOWS

Saturday

THE PERISCOPE

It was one of life's simple pleasures, Climbing up that steep ascent. I'd reach the lofty Summit, Breathless, tired, but exhilarated.

I liked the vista from the top deck, Sat in the clouds with angels looking upon a world so small.

The familiar sights of the town, my home;

Sandstone, concrete and steel.

But I always chose to look down the periscope.

A lens to the master and the machine. The driver at one with the driven, Dials, levers and hands on the wheel.

Mam would pull me from my portal, Chastised for my boyish curiosity. These days it's just a camera but I

Who watches the watcher and the watched?