The 31 Bus From Castlemilk Glasgow.1967 Poem by Michael Cochrane

We wait in line for the 31 Bus. Me in my baseball trainers, sloppy Joe t shirt, eating a piece in jam sandwich holding my mother's hand. Here it comes the green and orange corporation taxi to the city. We pass the chapel, then kings park, whizzing down carmunnock rd like a rocket downhill to Hampden Park the football roars of the fans echo as we pass on this Saturday afternoon. The bus conductor stands on the open deck with shouts of fares please, he holds a fantastic ticket machine with multiple tickets of blue, red, green I'm excited as he gives me mine. We pass the gorbals it looks grim even in the sunshine. Then the Carrick ship berthed on the clyde. Arriving at St Enoch Square, next to the Railway station and the Glasgow subway which I ask my ma to let me smell the unusual scent of the air which comes up from the tunnels, it's amazing. Off we go to the shops for back to school clothes the fun of freedom is coming to an end.
Michael Cochrane ©