SUBSCRIBE OR FOLLOW

Jan 142011
 

by Natalie Grigson


The bus pulls up to the corner

And the children shout

Their voices lost in the humdrum of streetcars

And Salesmen shouting about watches

They pile on

Gripping window sills

Door handles, bumpers, and

Hands while it pulls away.

They whisper, wail,

Then I hear a thhhtttt

When one drops to the pavement,

Far behind in a moment.

They become quiet

The bus jumbles

Shakes and wheezes over potholes

And the sand dunes get taller

Just hold on

Their fingers sweat

And the sand dunes get taller

The bus pulls up to the corner.

I can see the ferry’s lights

Broken but dancing on water

Through fingerprints smudged on the glass.