Uptown Buses

There is no sun, so little hope,

There are no gardens,

But plenty seeds raised to die

In watered sorrows drown.

Buses go uptown

To shiny places,

To uptown people,

Six p.m., afternoon dying

Everything

goes unnoticed by senses dulled,

The day goes down,

Another, and another,

Colored pained refrain.

Paolo Driussi