Verse 9: On the difficulty of writing on the bus

The mountain and the country road meet.
The bus rattling – as am I – jolts writing.
The oblivious cross the road ignoring lights.
The rattling bus, as I am writing, jolts.
A van impales the flow of traffic passing
jolts the bus, as I am rattling writing.
Reggaeton blares from a mobile phone.
Writing the jolts, I am as bus rattling.
Damn, if only this wreck had hydraulics.
As I am rattling, writing jolts the bus.

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