A Thwack

On the bus we heard a thwack;

The driver kept on going.

I couldn’t really see out back,

But soon, the bus was slowing.

 

The driver stopped and went to check.

A vehicle, parked double,

Had had his mirror hit the deck;

Our ride could be in trouble.

 

One woman left the bus and yet,

The rest of us just waited.

No one began to moan or fret,

Our outcome not debated.

 

A minute passed and he returned

And shrugged, “That car skedaddled.”

If there’s a lesson to be learned:

New Yorkers don’t get rattled.