POETRY: Bus Trip

I can't breathe

The woman on my right- on her laps, three children

Guarded with thick beefy arms

pushing at my small bony ones-my chest cavity contracts

One child is standing- he will stand throughout the trip

Photo credit: Thesheet.ng

I can't breathe- my lungs

Fighting for oxygen in

The stale hot air

Of a small bus crammed with sweating bodies

Why are the windows so small?

I can't think- I can only hear

Loud highlife music blasting from the speakers

Pounding in my ears and

Synced with my heartbeats and

Echoing for days after