Riding the bus*

Sometimes taking a bus old
Take you back,
To good ol' days,
Whence there were not hubs,
No big terminus,
Only an old, old bus,
To take you
From one place
To another,

Hanging you lose your breath,
The bus would send the city into a bone wrecking movement,
And shouts and curses, "What the crap it is!"
"Hey brother, move your legs!"
"Don't push or I might make a great Fall"
"How far is that Brabone Road?!" "Where will all these people go?" Sometimes you take a bus
And not move an inch just.

(*Note: the picture attached is that of an old bus that used to ply on Kolkata roads, with people hanging from it, precariously, perilously.
The picture is attached herewith for enhancement of the poem/scribbling)