riding
words homeward
waiting
to see you
at
the bus stop blue
with
an overnight trip
between
me and you
as
the diesel engine lurches
and
the air brakes squeal
and
pinch close
I
gather my things
and
walk on board
find
a seat
near
the middle
by
a window
and
just let my mind wander
through
the glass
leaning
against it
and
into where you are
waiting
too
each
canto
of
circadian rhythm
is
the road’s incision
and
what spills from me
when
wanting you
with
my cupped hands
pleading
for more
of
something
that
covers me
with
anticipation
so
I can feel
the
rain again
so
I can feel
what
it means
to
be right where
I
am supposed to be
while
the miles beneath me
count
markers
and
billboards
eating
away
at
the dark of night
until your station
comes
into view
EJR
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