High-Over Paranoia Poem by Benjamin Feliciano

I feel the foot of an impatient fellow passenger tapping.
We are stuck behind a train on the bus.
The air grows tense with mutual frustration.
Expletives are muttered, almost in unison
And half-sighed words about 'how late I'm going to be'
Fall muffled against the ugly chairs,
And echo across the large window panes.
Seconds stretch to minutes
And my foot can still feel someone tapping
Like the tick of a time bomb.
Finally, as the caboose slips past,
The striped bars rise ever so slowly,
And our journey continues.
The foot several seats back ceases,
And all is well.