041410b First Encounter With Conductor Poem by Manonton Dalan

bus is pulling a big cloud of dust
mixing with black diesel smoke
road is so narrow bus can't pass
each other, one should stop at
wider part of the road. sometimes
it takes ten minutes to let them pass

stop right in front of me, i heard scream
'where are you going, how many of you'
i said ' next town, i am by myself, sir'
he grab my bag and throw it on the roof
i said ' oh! my, good i don't have breakable'
he give me ticket that i can't make out