image from saleartshop.com
Your heart is full of fertile seeds, just waiting
to sprout.”--Morihei Ueshiba.
The bus station bench became too hard to tolerate,
the milling minions too loud,
too pleased & joyous
as it seemed that everyone else met up
with a lover, a friend, or a family member,
as he sat solitary, arms folded,
The great shiny but dusty Greyhounds
rolled in & parked in neat diagonal rows,
their air brakes whooshing, their diesel exhaust
choking the air of the terminal garage, as
their chrome doors made that distinctive
clunk folding back & swinging open wide,
allowing the anxious passengers egress.
He watched the traveler’s faces intensely,
witnessing happiness, despair, confusion, anger,
rancor & bliss--a swirling cavalcade of emotions, of
expressions, slack jaws, clenched teeth, furrowed
brows, & a plethora of mysterious situations.
Too often these days,
working for a year now in the bustling
Kenworth factory, he ate alone,
slept alone, &
staring into the brightly lit windows
of other people’s lives, while listening
to other people’s music.
If he had been a writer, If he could paint, he would
he would have flooded have painted 6 foot high can-
pages with passionate vases with black & red & yellow
poetry, or started a novel. swaths of abstract sincerity, angst
Yonglin told him yesterday
that she would come up for
a visit tonight, after her shift at
the diner, in that converted railway
car on the edge of Diggsville, down
in the farm country, traveling up from
the Notch, the placid purity of rural
blessings into the stench & chaos of this
metropolis. They were engaged, but
only managed to see each once a month.
There was one more bus scheduled to arrive at midnight.
Nervously, he walked next door to the New Peking restaurant,
& gobbled down some house fried rice, laden with shrimp,
chicken, pork, eggs & green onions. Sipping hot green tea,
he traced hearts in the lovely grease left on the colorful
platter. He smiled as he read the message extracted from
his stale fortune cookie: Someone will make you happy
Long distance romances
can be difficult to maintain;but it can be done.
Posted over on dVerse Poets Pub Poetics