Thoughts upon visiting a lonesome bus at daybreak

 

IMG_4509

Oh lonesome bus at daybreak—

buglike profile suggesting six legs,

three antennae stretching toward the quarter moon—

your body’s own rivets will soon cast shadows,

the crust of sand will glimmer inside your crumpled tailpipes.

 

How did you come to be parked by Dillon Road?

Were you self-propelled or dragged along like an old fool?

 

You are whole. Your emblems and stripes have grandeur.

IMG_4532

How many drove you over the decades?

How many passengers did you carry and what were their joys and woes?

Was Low Desert the last destination you displayed?

 

With clouded headlamps and rusted bezels you welcome the dawn.

The name Salazar in sticky letters on your door

has peeled away to alaz as if in mock-lament,

and on your engine cover someone has scratched roto,

which means broken and who couldn’t have guessed?

 

But someone still cares, oh bus. There’s a new lock

on your door, and the rock before your tire

prevents any creeping away.

 

Thank you for greeting the day with me

and for not having dwellers

when I stepped on the bumper and peered in.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s