The Saturday Night Bus

It's eleven 'o five as I depart,
an ordinary Saturday at a seemingly
ordinary time.
O! How wrong one can be.

I stumbled out a friendly "hi"
as the driver greeted me
and everything was what I expected
an odd soul or two in the back of the bus
and the rest empty, this windy and
snowing night.
It was peaceful and serene
Giving me time to contemplate
the day.

But then... It happened.

I saw the crowd long before the driver
stopped to pick It up.
I was surprised over how long it took
for the vast horde to enter,
it felt as if hours had passed before
the bus finally moved on.

I felt suffocated,
trapped,
I felt horribly out of place
the stench of beer, spirits
and puke surrounded me.

Incredulous!
How could the so peaceful scene now
be brutalized by shouts and screams,
unintelligible jokes and rowdy laughter.
People's intelligence and common sense
destroyed by the drug that we promote.
How can we advocate and defend such a
liquid that turns ordinary people into beasts,
that turns men into animals and
women into victims?
How can we sit by as this poison claims
thousands of lives every day?

The questions echoed in my mind as
my torment continued.
But then, finally - the bus stopped.
I exited and walked towards my home
thinking that this must be a joke
this must have been staged.
But alas, I cannot fool myself
because this,
this could have been any
Saturday night bus.