Riding in a bus with many people, choosing to stay aloof,
lying back in the seat getting some more needed sleep.
Stopping for lunch, getting off of the bus, eating at a
table by myself, when done returning to it.
Looking out the big glass window, watching clouds, heavily
come together.
As they hit their heads against each other, I look forward
to the front windshield and can see the tears they've shed.
Mountains climbing all around the bus, as we stay on a
strip, a ribbon of highway, that will take us eventually
to Las Vegas.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem