Bad bus poetry

The driver of the bus I take in the morning is very chatty. He seems like a very nice man but it is 7:30 in the morning and I don’t want to talk to anyone at that hour. I use my work-issued bus pass, so we have previously had the conversation where he thinks I’m a student, and I tell him I’m not, and he says I’m too young to be an employee, and blah blah blah. You know the one.

So, this morning, I was actively trying NOT to engage in conversation and so very conspicuously I pulled a novel from my bag and settled back to read. However, I was the only one on the bus and he was in a chatty mood. He asked me what I was reading, then asked if I liked poetry, and then held up a dirty dog-eared thin paperback book — a book of romance poetry written by his son, and he wanted to know what I thought of it.

I got up, lurched my way to the front of the moving bus and told him that I don’t know much about poetry (lie) but I’d be happy to read some of it on the way to the train station (another lie).

And folks, let me tell you — it was painful. I applaud the kid for trying, and his dad is obviously extremely proud if he’s asking random strangers on the bus to read it — but in all honesty the ones I looked at read like bad modern R&B songs… “Girl, I love you so much, when you’re gone I long for your touch.” I could almost hear a multi-octave wandering warble in the singer’s voice. I love yoooooooooou, girl it’s troooo, oooooo oooo ooo ooooooo ooooooooooooooo. I guess that’s some peoples’ cup of tea, but not mine. I didn’t want to be rude, though, so I kept pretending to read all the way to the train station.

ACK!

I can’t even remember what I ended up saying to him as I got off the bus and handed the book back; I think it was something like “Thanks, that was really nice.”

I really need to develop a strategy on how not to feel forced into making conversation at 7:30 a.m. with a stranger who thinks I like bad romance poetry! I’m thinking: sunglasses, coffee, and an iPod with the volume set to “drown.”