"I'm trying to get out of your face,"
he whispered to the bus,
"I'm old enough now to work."
The bus rumbled back
some misunderstood grunts
and all the creatures laughed at him.
"Him, independent?" they tittered.
But he didn't let it get to him
as he limped in the dank grey weather,
"Onwards and upwards," he whispered.
Didn't he too have a god in him like the rest of us?
Couldn't he too have a chance?