Posted on Thursday 24 March 2005
I wait for the bus in a strange town
And wonder with a nervous edge if
the driver will understand what I am saying
when I ask ‘how much is the fare?’.
They don’t like outsiders here,
and they like odd accents even less.
This town, caught up in its antiquity,
could be mistaken for a black hole.
It’s in a timewarp you see, and neatly
cocooned by its people.
They don’t like outsiders here,
and they like odd accents even less.
The bus arrives and opens its doors
threatening to swallow the queueing people whole.
I climb on board, and pronounce my destination as best I can.
But it’s no good, he knows I’m a stranger to this place.
They don’t like outsiders here,
and they like odd accents even less.
The driver mutters something under his breath.
My ears fail to catch his words, and I ask him to repeat them.
He throws me a dark look and mutters again.
I pay my fair and take a seat with the rest of the crowd.
They don’t like strangers here,
but I couldn’t give a damn about that.
