An Ode to Bus #6

An Ode to Bus #6

To the driver of bus number 6
Your route I would like to fix
You get in my way
Each and ev’ry day
Like a giant wall made of bricks

You turn onto Riverton from Broad Street
Carrying children with small feet
You slow and you stop
The red lights they pop
The happy faces you great

I try to get there before you
You drive slower than glue
A turtle just passed
In a race you’d be last
When you’re in front I say poo

But the madness must come to an end
My broken schedule you can’t mend
Turn right on Pomona
I wish you’d move to Arizona
Your driving I don’t comprehend