Night Bus Poem by Matt Render

I'm riding the night bus
And just a little contagious
Haven't had a cigarette
In six months
Haven't drank a drop
I've been sick ever since
I can't make it make sense
An old man leans over me
Soaked in his own blood
He's reading past my shoulder
His feet are caked in mud
And I feel the alcohol off his breath
Moistening the newspaper on my lap
The disgruntled gibberish
Pours out of his mouth
I can't tell if he wants to fight me
Or to f*ck me
Or both
As I inspect his chiselled jaw
Bruises cuts and all
He's clean shaven and raw
his crew cut is greying
And I wonder if he won tonight
It doesn't matter either way
My stop is coming next
And I think I'll bring him with me.