DOUBLE DECKER BUS
the spiral stairs
from the bus stop
catch ourselves
bizarrely distorted
like fair ground freaks
in the circle
convex mirror.
It was a race
who would be the first to sit at the front window seat
mimicking steering wheels in the air
turning corners
sliding across
the bench seat
whipping under
the high tree branches.
We could see
for miles
over garden fences
and houses
the same height as
seagulls resting on lamp posts
the whole world was
in front of us.
Once the ticket collector
told us off
for ringing the bell
stopped the bus
and marched us
down the stairs.
That day after school
he made us walk
all the way home
in the rain.
Avie.
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