Bloody Men - Wendy Cope

Bloody men are like bloody buses --
You wait for about a year 
And as soon as one approaches your stop 
Two or three others appear. 

You look at them flashing their indicators, 
Offering you a ride. 
You’re trying to read the destinations, 
You haven’t much time to decide. 

If you make a mistake, there is no turning back. 
Jump off, and you’ll stand there and gaze 
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by 
And the minutes, the hours, the days.