Bus Trip


Pay the driver, an hours journey-
Too much, even for a ‘Quality Coach’.
A terrible video, who chose it?
It doesn’t matter, the video player doesn’t work anyway.
A full bus, crammed into the aisles with caches of personal items,
As if of a load of refugees fleeing a forlorn city.

Seated, moving, the orange curtain drawn.
A beautiful reddening sky, clear
Heralding a frosty morning, perhaps.
An uncomfortable seat, even extended back.
Cramped knees- the seat in front crashes back.

Pearl of all laughter, soft, sweet.
Ringing in the ear, delicate, even sensuous.
The bus is not so crowded, the stiff air even sweet.
The flowing hair cascading down the crevice-
Cleft in the back, groove between seats-
Like a perfect creek ticking rocks in trancing song.
Skin of a fairy tale, unmarked, smooth.
Warm radiating out like a soft animal in the lap.

Another glance, then a sliver of goosebumps down the spine.
A pulsing rhythm- A heartbeat heard by another- under the sleeping sun.
The journey complete, too soon, too early.

Stiff air returning.