Poem

Bloody Men


Bloody men are like bloody buses
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.

You look at them flashing their indicators
Offering you a ride
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off and you'll stand there and gaze
While to cars and the taxis and the lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.

Wendy Cope