William Hromada

Will the Bus be Late?

Oh, darling, it always is—

a silver ghost in the drizzle,

crawling like regret through traffic,

while your shoes soak and your phone dies.

It’ll arrive just as you give up,

doors hissing open like a sigh,

driver’s face blank as yesterday’s forecast.

Still, you climb in—

because hope, that stubborn thing,

prefers wet seats and bad timing

over walking home alone.