Posts tagged ‘Buses’

March 31, 2018

When I Commute from Hamline/Midway in St Paul to the East Bank of Minneapolis at 7:20 in the Morning and back at 5:15 in the Evening, it’s a very personal experience that I will share with you because you are part of it too and everything and you should know

outside, on the street, other drivers can’t drive.
i mean they drive, but badly.
going on University Avenue to CVM by Surly
i realize this frequently, daily, to my surprise…
i want to see all my surroundings at once,
close captioned, in HD, real-time,
over 280, let me explain.
people choose not to use their turn signals,
they choose to not stay in their own lane,
they find illegal parking on the side by Dunn Bros…
when we pay taxes we pay for both sides of the road, i get it.
at West Gate Station, get ready to abruptly stop, always.
Get ready to get looked at hard, in a not nice fashion.
there is no open road freedom.
further, pedestrians look at crosswalks like patrons look at art at the MIA.
here, nothing special to see, white lines, no meaning apparently; awe-inspiring.
i am stuck in Frogger, these are the frogs, i am the cars.
try me, run for the train.
when i sit shotgun i am a shackled dictator repeating:
slow down, babe!
watch out, babe!
OMG, don’t tailgate, please, i know this person loves
causing accidents…its probably
an insurance scam waiting to happen…
see those dent’s, i can tell they are texting and driving 3 cars away.
what a nice person, what a great driver, i substitute curse words.
i like to think about things like that, and potholes.
they make the moon landing less believable, these craters on earth.
both cities, just please fix the fucking roads.
this is in my head i never say it.
only more cordially or through art…
i don’t care about politics because they just talk.
just make it so i can get to somewhere without destroying my vehicle,
at least when i am in the beautiful city of, i am between.
if i wanted to off-road most days i would go to the farm.
still i am offered excuses, told how hard it is, all at once, patience.
as an adult who pays taxes, officially, and who drives a leased Subaru
i can appreciate the idea of better infrastructure
for logical reasons like having nice things, if you can’t agree
that’s not for me…
but again, outside, other drivers can’t drive.
and, now, the construction site that took away our child’s daycare
to make cheaply built expensive high-rise condos
also takes away the single lane
after they took away the double lane a few weeks back.
and i got no condolences, i make nothing off it only lost time.
it’s hard to apologize for wanting better roads
and better drivers on those roads, and people to get off
their phones, and for some dangerous bikers to be careful, to choose a side.
i guess for a safer and better life for all, a better community…
that’s initiative today, just complain about it.
i can’t recall the last time
i didn’t pay for insurance, tabs, plates, gas,
parking, repairs, oil changes, general maintenance, deductibles for insurance
after hitting a twilight rodent; that’s just life tho, my choice, i know.
but other drives, O, it’s so hard to understand them!
and they breeze by and scowl like i have a problem!
(probably it’s me too, we are all to blame.)
and they act like they have never wronged or sinned or failed,
or mistakes don’t happen to them, ever. i think we know better.
that’s America though; we never do wrong. they do, right?
we are all Gentlemen Animals, no different. human animals.
covering so that the Thought Police don’t get to us at some point.
but the Thought Police are Facebook and Twitter and WordPress and GMail…
but other drivers out there, please drive safe you add value.
i don’t know, i love you because unless i am eating
i talk, so i would make a bad spy… and you are great.
i don’t know, i like the view to curtail this complaint or Ode,
it’s beautiful, i race trains and buses and
the sun’s glare from St Paul in the east. i see all people,
and i love them, even as drivers, commuters, they are part of my day and me.
it’s a perfect way to get to where you need to go.
it’s a perfect way to be a part of it.

Advertisements
July 21, 2015

Transformative Tea (Ireland Abroad)

Change,
like switching drinks,
not from one hand to another,
but the beverage entirely.

Finding a new drink…

How could one come so set in their ways
that they don’t find the nerve to change?

Standing there, waiting,
watching the water boil,
face turned red,
ego on high alert—ready?

This sergeant don’t take no lip,
unless it’s yours,
and he will eat the entire thing…

And those herbs will turn to taste,
and you can bet your ass on it.

There is no need for filter or mug,
no need for a full pot or the caffeine shakes,
just one cup to get me by.

Life in moderation, and we fumble at the keys.

And it was pure fate,
the Irish black tea beckoned
as if to take me back—

far away, into distant lands,
as if I missed Dublin
and the 5th floor flat at Staycity.

I could see most of The Liberties
from the number 43 balcony—

on walks aside double-decker buses,
smooth euros in my pockets,
along the river Liffey.

And everyone watched as we drank whiskey
and fresh Guinness, and read books,
and they pronounced three as “tree”,
and we were slagged as “yanks”.

As we sat on cross-country excursions
thru endless rolling green hills
and stone walls and winding roads
and puffy sheep.

As we saw things some of us hadn’t seen before,
with a drink in hand and our feet on the ground.

And I sip.
Now.
And I recall.
Then.

It will be awhile before I get back around.
But it was good to try something new.

February 16, 2015

When does Spring return?

The city bus hums to me
As I wind through wet streets.

A stoplight shouts “wait”!
From a four-corner crossing.

White flakes fall heavy, thick—
Clouding a straight-line view.

We walk along the way wondering:
When does spring return?

February 8, 2015

Downtown Minneapolis by way of Nicollet, by way of bike, by way of bus, by way of foot; the puzzle pieces which we’ve put in

On one sunny Saturday,
Through Nicollet on two wheels,
Over the Central avenue bridge
Above the Mississippi unclean—

Ahead along this busy way
Skyscrapers jutted through fog,
Vehicles slid moving quickly past
On pale snowmelt roads—

Downtown became a beautiful trap
For tourists and newsstands,
Dirty buses carried riders:
The working and the unengaged—

Fed pigeons saunter the ground low,
As artistic homeless flew their signs,
People wore designer sunglasses
Lest the sun blind their eyes—

And they layered in light bundles,
Standing heavy in their packs,
Slung purses, scarves, and rucksacks,
Watching cautious, avoiding attack—

Mirrored window reflections
Caught the lights of fire engines,
Ambulance flashes and sounding sirens
Made attentive onlookers stare—

Groups walked by to restaurants
So some could sit and sip a beer,
Others ate a late hungover breakfast
Watching soccer, giving cheers—

And I with my family went,
For the Foshay stood in the sky,
Stepping on lively marble stone
We viewed and passed the time—

Breaking at each stop light met
Cross traffic moved in front,
Bits of the city puzzle fell out;
For new hands to put them back—

October 17, 2014

Moments in Autumn

Brittle leaves chased round a bus,
Clouds layered dark, hung above.
Traffic lights; sparked and changed,
Trees kept at bent in long headwind.
Walking stiff with faces downcast,
In sweaters—sweats; cotton warmth.
Moving towards bleak and gray day,
Chilled in each windowsill opaque;
Book-bags, pumpkin spice, cigarettes, wait…

January 8, 2014

Polar Vortex Complex

Deep down in my bones I could feel the bitter cold

Unlike the weather I tried to remain positive

I could feel I wasn’t alone on this ill-tempered day.

 

The other commuters were as bold

Walking alone proved treacherous

I noticed this as I made my way.

 

Fixed we stood.

 

None took bare fingers to examine smart phones

So pained by the wind one could hear its distant moan

This had turned into a city full of steam and smoke and coats.

 

KVJ says, “So it goes.”  “So it goes.”  “So it goes…”

 

Warm thoughts what we could

Long minutes existed in time unknown

This as we waited in a bus shelter along the road on this dangerously weathered spinning stone.

 

… Here’s the 3B coming, right?

 

I can’t see, lenses create ice

Early day twilight wearing these damned sights

All eyes and no view, please help me make it through.

 

It must be dark as night on this frigid January morning

It was forecasted with forewarning

They said, ‘Stay inside.’ -like run and hide.

 

We have the Polar Vortex Complex

This is not Global Warming*.

 

This is a place where all inside have lost their minds because of ‘things’ being boring.

 

Thoughts, then I look on

Blurred Metro Transit lights?

 

Praying it’s not gone.

 

I am not even halfway there yet

A walk I fast regret.

 

Lungs feel tight, I start at fright.

 

Walking, my vision fogged and I forgot the art of breathing

Ice crystals formed on my lashes not for the better of seeing.

 

-Seething, I’d not like to die like this, on a near vacant campus

I begged, pleaded, and asked the UMPD for a small ride, I did not gain advantage.

 

Nothing happened.

 

Five minutes later my temperature changed

The outside temperature stayed the same.  (Below Something-nearing -50)

 

I thought, has my nose frozen yet, has carbon-monoxide damaged my brain?

Blackened and blotched flesh-stained.

 

All was but rearranged, all my ideas of sustain

All my big plans were being choked at the throat

I try manage at maintain.

 

Things we think about in a bundle

In this frost-bit jungle, the coldest city I have come to know.

 

Minneapolis,

Little cold apple, come as they go

Most, (at least), some will stay home.

 

Temperature of this place we live in

All things we’ve been given.

 

I must have blindly run off somewhere

Panic gulp puffs of smoke catching air as I passed

Mad dash hypothermic maniac, today I am back intact.

 

 

*Hyperbole

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
February 28, 2013

NOW

I see you are clearly starting to plant your ubiquitous presence in my heavens.

 

Art and Stone alone block the outside view of Winter.  Wind blows on an old building.  Places we’ve been together: with you-us two.

 

My shirt says, Snow Shoe Brew, My feet are Boots.

 

We used to kick the ground around this town.

Used to live to love, looking above at the stars.

 

Nothing has changed.

Watching cars and buses from afar.

 

Forgetting the days, planning our ways.  In the future-wish again, what have we missed my friend?

Not much.  Not how.  We have Now.

 

Again, old fashioned statement of life’s placement.

I think as we walk, kiss, and say goodbye.

 

She goes away like she first said “Hi” and walked into my life.

October 31, 2012

Wake Up Downtown

Waking up to a situation with you.

 

Blond hair and ruffled blankets; sitting up naked.

Nothing new, same deal, same issues.

Remaining relatively true.

 

Things aren’t as bad as they seem.

This is true, true.

I don’t know about you.

 

Socks, shoes, contacts stick to blue eyes like glue.

Hello to the mirror on the wall, trying to see things clear.

Asking who is the fairest of them all?

 

I see me.

 

Counting, looking around to see this fantasy bathroom stall.

Then I leave, then I disappear with much sound.

 

Sun light, so bright.

 

Getting up, not my bed.

Just another night.

 

Getting up, she turns her head.

She says.

Wish we could be here all day.

 

I say,

I say.

 

Right.

 

Yeah, only in dreams.

Right.

 

Then I found myself on my way.

I found what the weather patterns mean.

 

On my bike, looking left, looking right.

Cars, gas, fumes, liability, citations, cash, and frustration.

What a sad sight.

 

Drivers waiting patient, like a logical fallacy.

 

To 3rd, to Central, to parking lot and sidewalk, to Nicollet, these are places where I will never get lost.  Downtown habit is a chronic pathway to the day, individuals traveling in every which way.  From the Stonearch Bridge to the Grain Belt sign Minneapolis is on the mind.  The weather is chilled, same as the attitudes.  People standing in line to have a good time, most never move on.  Who is wasting time?

I coast and back pedal only in travel…

 

Getting up, haven’t slept like this since birth, since last month.

Getting up and outside to see what its worth, to open my eyes.

Gift or curse I’ll figure it when it arrives.

 

I thought this as I waved goodbye.