3: 19 southbound
I will look out
The window or crack
Knuckles or look
Back out window pre-
Tending I'm not
Thinking about you
Across the aisle;
This is all
Prevarication
Acting as if that corner
Diner could ever be
More interesting than thou
(And while secretly
Notating our eyes
Chance to meet.
That may be the
Beginning or the end
Or simply a point
In nothingness)
O Sun, Giver of Life!
You've made this bus
A thousand degrees
I stink
And will keep
To myself
Cursing come Brookhaven
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem