While guiding his bus
Slowly up the trafficked street
The driver considers

“Pursuit of happiness”
A bizarre, peculiar thought
Outlined in his rights

Ignoring outcome,
Disregarding consequence
He steers into night

Starting his journey
To claiming his legal right
He is soon discouraged

He does not find joy
Driving along noisy streets
Or quiet highways

Searching for gladness
In alleys and empty lots
And behind diners

Cruising through the park
Or even along the beach
In a fruitless search

Everywhere people
Weeping because they are poor
Laughing sometimes too

Choking back his tears
He drives on, through the cruel night
Afraid for his life

No right to contentment
Only to it’s hot pursuit
Such a short life, too

So,
He returns the bus
He takes the subway home
He removes his shoes

Watching water boil
For warm, sweet, bitter black tea
Television off

Telephones his girl
Weeping because they are poor
Laughing sometimes too