Panic Attack

Panic Attack

The bus pulled up.
Seven people got off.
Eleven got on.
I was one of the eleven.
At the next stop
two off
one on.
I have a lot on my mind.
I would prefer to think of things other than what I’ve been thinking about.
Two on
Two off.
Five standing in the aisle.
It is rain. It is gray midsummer day.
It is hot sauna inside this bus
It is smell of wet clothing.
The roof of the bus presses down on me
All these other people
are taking the air that I need
to breathe.
I get off the bus
I am one among three
gulping the diesel fumes
as the bus moves off.



“Businessman”  –  Collage/Acrylics, 2006

11 thoughts on “Panic Attack

  1. Thank you. I did that collage a long time ago from a photo I took downtown in winter, at night, as people were going home from work. I remember when it seemed every man had a tan or maybe dark blue raincoat like this guy.

  2. Your poem reminded me of travelling on the London Underground, which is a wonderful transport system but also a petri dish of disease and grossness, especially in the summer. If I had available time, I would always choose to walk instead of using either the Tube or a bus. I got to see so much more of the city that way – though sometimes I would see too much and decide I was a lot safer getting back on the Underground.

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