Monday, May 05, 2014


I am hereI was there
The bus is late. I wait
in the cloudy drizzle with no umbrellain the baking sunshine with the smell of hot dust
The bus is full
I have to standPeople hang out the doors
There’s a
man with a trash bag full of bottles. He stands in the rear doorwaywoman with a basket of chickens that the driver straps to the roof
We start up with
the electric purr of a hybrid enginea low-octane blue-smoke cough
roll away through
wet streets lined with giant horse chestnut treesdry savannas edged with the boughs of Madagascar flamboyants
green, green foliage and blossoms like
candles blazing
Someone reads a newspaper, findingSomeone has a transistor radio, hearing
news of war. Everyone holds their breath. The
man with the bottleswoman with the chickens
says, “My son…”

Available! High-Voltage Lines, Knocking from Inside

1 comment:

Christi Krug said...

Delicious with the contrast of past and present, and being named brings them together at the end. Thank you for another beautiful offering.