Posts tagged ‘Bus’

January 13, 2018

Fact: in Minnesota, the bus is always late in the cold, and later the colder it is…

i was telling the ladies at daycare
about how the bus
always comes 20 minutes late
when it is cold out.
like now, it comes half-an-hour later, guaranteed;
when it perfect out the bus comes on time…
the colder it is out
the later the bus arrives.
and this isn’t a joke this is real, scientific method real, tested.
this is an actual fact.
they asked so i told them, i love our talks.
he made it, great, goodbye.
but the truth is
one would figure these waits would get better
now that the Superbowl is coming to town.
but i guess not. not for the peasants.
us in servitude, making it to work and back
not having the magic platinum tickets, not insiders.
have to wait on ice packed glaciers between snow drifts.
global cooling is giving me frostbite and making me bitter.
across from the Goodwill at Fairview, near
some abandoned shopping cart excursion,
son in stroller, meth-addict twitching, calling
the Google schedule bullshit, smoking a cig.
don’t these things come every 20 minutes or so…,
give me a break–i mean seriously,
i don’t need this in my life,
no not when it’s negative 20.
then it floats up when you are moments from death, asking god.
this is, even while being secular and skeptical.
i think of summitting Everest and wait longer.
you know i probably could with this training.
though the oxygen tanks and Sherpa, i need them now.

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December 8, 2016

bundle up

ere the cold wind
hardened person debacle,
post-repast,
i become less like
those who represent me
and more like myself,
still running from its presence.
we are found, as errant snow
in misplaced cracks
along the street–
never should have been there.
swirling excitedly
at the bus stop proper
under pink and sable skies,
this industry: dying trees, real waits,
away from it all,
lights out in the house,
purely darkened for late payments.
a book stands in my side pocket,
slick along the turns,
a clear door opens, “Hello, sir.”
and then the same door closes again
to shield me from it.
ere the cold wind, just as
it touches me whole.

April 20, 2016

Passenger at the Bus Stop along Hennepin

Our center of life
is constant, steady movement.
Passing along I reflect.

January 27, 2016

Driving to Work

in the mornings
before i drove
to work
i used to
listen to the
traffic report
on the radio
and laugh.

i had this idea
that it didn’t
effect me,
that i was
so far above
this kind
of busy commute.

now it does.
in my capsule
i sit, watching
attentive, close,
as i never
wanted to.

i drive with
conviction, i go
at each turn.
i know what it
is like to worry,
to be considered
a shark.

biking was never
this way, it was
i who needed
to watch over
my shoulder;
now i must see
and assess
everything.

i must do the
impossible,
i must be constant,
aware, and
one hundred
percent,
always.

a bus would
be nice,
biking in winter
now isn’t
realistic,
the truck is
what i have
to go to,
this luxury.

the radio tells
it straight,
“side roads
are slow and go…”
i used to laugh,
now i sweat;
i used to cry,
now i mumble.

the pleasure of driving,
and they don’t
even attempt at
calling
the stress.

the pleasure
is all of
mine.

March 24, 2015

forgotten change

A monoculture of plants
in a field
offers a species fading—

a group of homogeneous acts
between skyscrapers
offers a…

well,

you get the point.

***

Now,

I must have stepped onto the bus
and forgotten my change.

Can I borrow from you?

January 26, 2015

Cold Campus Commute

The connector bus sways

On each turn and pass,

As students await in cold,

Near snow, behind glass.

January 14, 2015

En Route to Belfast

Sheep and bus drivers,
The left side of the road;
Minutes from Belfast,
Center to North we go.

January 6, 2015

Leaving Inishmore

Waking early in a clouded dawn to board a bus,
This bus takes us through the dark to a dock.
One warm ferry waits in stirring waters below,
It’s held there fast by thick ropes in tight knots.

August 18, 2014

flat tires have transpired

Witness: flat tires have transpired;

U-lock and steel wires- cables,

odds and ends, curses,

fixed up again, pole stance.

 

Como commute now,

she sits near Black window-

steam, heat, and coffee aroma…

running to- somehow.

 

Girls stand at the bus stop bench

asking, ever simple

questions of schedules

and Joe’s market view edibles.

 

On! this box with wheels,

Alternatives- let it go.

 

Running thru humid air

Nalgene splash uneven

Hot breaths, punctual care

Step by step to there.

 

Flat tires have transpired.

Days described disrepair. 

July 12, 2014

downtown alive

the downtown life;
bike,
bus,
people;
this traffic.

concrete jungle summer,
new-comers and city lovers.

the space betwixt is a waiting room for action:
excitement for concern,
mini-skirts, excrement,
and trash abandoned.

business casual, with cash they flirt,
although beggars with signs ask first.

there is always art, music, and thought to sell.

waiting is the pedestrian,
some adventure sought:
tourist; look at the mess we’re in!
bus-stop theatre, a show free of cost.

completely and utterly lost,
sticking out like sore thumb,
mind numbed.

through structures which shoot into the heavens;
box shaped, corporate; of consequence.

hotter than hell,
clothes transforming to shells.

spells, smells, and potions.

beyond tables,
the chairs,
the patrons,
and buzzing busy waiters and waitresses.

past signs,
commotion-
emotion,
causing big eyes-

knowing,
coursing
breathing
bleeding;

witness,
downtown alive.