The Bus Bumped... Poem by robert dickerson

The bus bumped and jolted it's way through the rain across the dark, hilly plain. Thunder sounded and lightening flashed in the early twilight. When it rained hard the windshield wipers beat fast and when the rain fell lightly the slap of the
wipers slowed up.The bus was crowded with young people all curious to see the performance and all the seats were taken and not a few souls had to stand. Since they were going to the center of the earth, so called, everyone was happy, and even though the drive seemed endless the hills slid by smoothly and acres of gray-green olive trees slid by smoothly and the little farms slid by and twinkled and took a mythic look such that when anyone looked up from their novel he said
'Aha'.
The bus driver, of course, was just an idea.
In the center aisle stood the tour-mistress, a jowly-plump avuncular woman in a polka-dot dress, an attractive forty, with lightly rouged cheeks and thick reddened lips, somehow keeping order by her mere presence without really trying.
'How gallant', thought Donnie, watching her from the corner of his eye. Then he began to watch her in ernest, admiring her cool, dry style and crispness in the face of the withering journey. She smiled jovially whenever their eyes met. Donnie himself stood, , , ,