B3 Bus Poem by Raymond Farrell

I have taken each Wednesday morning
To walking the half hour
To the bus depot
It gives me some exercise
And guarantees me a seat on the bus
The hour and a half trip to the clinic
Is far more enjoyable when done sitting
Today the bus was green
Last week it was blue
The B3 bus is a moving metaphor
For what Chinese society is like
The first stop
Saw the last available seat occupied
As a crowd of people
Filed onto the bus
In orderly fashion
Stop after stop
More people got on
No one uttered a sound
Those standing grasped hand grips
Or held onto the framework of metal rods
Provided for their support
As the bus made its way
The stop and go of traffic
Jostled the occupants
Back and forth
Rhythmically they gently swayed
And then suddenly without warning
The bus would stop quickly
Causing the passengers
To be violently pitched
Forwards and then backwards
In accordance with the laws of physics
Throughout the process
Everyone remained mute
Their faces were expressionless
After all this is China
And you must resolve yourself
To the fact that
The bus like the country
Is overcrowded
Hence complaining
Or getting unruly
Will change nothing
And will only
Give you an ulcer.