I walk the modest
five minutes
to the bus stop on
cracked and gritty
sidewalk
and I hear the
horns
and the growl
or the wisp
of passing car
engines
that seem to
talk
to each other
I board the one;
towards Lancaster –
sit
as the vehicle
stops
at
stops
one by one,
slowly
moving through the
side streets
of west Palmdale
which merges
into east Lancaster
Pulling into
Lancaster
City Park,
I wait
for the bus
to skate
into a
stop
then I
get
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem