#100poems Eight Two. Bus

The men are are all arriving at the stop
The shift begins at eight O clock tonight
They gather, huddle. Many voices
Many languages

A car stops
Policemen get out.
You cannot gather here
They shout.
This is England.
No riots.
No trouble
yes?

An older man smiles.
Explains with kindly patience
This is England.
Yes .
We go now.
This is England
This is bus.