September 6, 2012

poem 311 of a poem a day for 2012

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


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