Soapbox

Dear Driver of the Small Blue Car-

    I'm sure you had pressing business, had somewhere important to be.
    Maybe you were on your way to the hospital to perform emergency surgery
    on blind orphans.
    Or perhaps Jack Bauer had just called you with the exact location
    of the terrorists bomb which you were rushing to diffuse
    to save the whole city.

    Yes, that's probably it.
    That's probably why you, among all of us idling on that quiet street,
     felt the need to drive around the city bus and hurry on your way,
     just as the little old man, the cause of such unacceptable delay, came out
     from behind the front of the bus     
     with his walker,
     waving cheerfully at the driver, belt pulled tight over boney hips,
     old man hat sitting neatly on his thin hair. 

    I'm sure your urgent, humanity-saving business is what caused you,
    when you saw him emerge,
    to accelerate into the other lane and drive on around him, rather than stopping
    to let him cross.
   The rest of us ordinary citizens, breath still sharply indrawn  from our collective gasps,
    just sat in our cars and watched as he tried to hurry across the street
    while the bus lurched into motion,     
    waited to see him safely reach the sidewalk before we moved forward ourselves,
    to continue with our ever-so-much less important days.