The Waving of the Bus Drivers

Why is it that underpaid bus drivers wave to each other
When his/her colleague drives by?
Be it a form of common courtesy? A simple raising of the hand
Representing a greeting between two parallel existences?

I crouch and watch them day and night, cuffing their every move,
And draw some skinny relation between their 360 second lunch breaks
And the bleaching toilets that utopia strike those morning runs.
The eternal gyre of the noon-and-day waving parade.

I sip a little mineral by the straw, guise and crouching,
Behind the smoking unit none of them use, to avoid
Jen finding out and taking the kids back to mums. A wave
Will just have to suffice, a waving of pride between two predators.

But what if, one afternoon, a novice is put behind the big wheel
And forgets to make the all-important gesture?
What sadness will evoke the tears of an already dying man
Whose dedication to the policy summons the all-ready
Court of angels, taking the liberty to stir all sense and reason
Out of those pathetic whiskers into an already broken wall?