Poetry
Riding Along
There’s nothing quite like
riding a bus where
Spanish licks from tongues
First, there’s the seat
fully reclined
stuck in this position
inviting…
(forcing?)
me to sit back
and melt into the ride
Second, there’s the window
three-quarters open
frozen in position
afternoon air whipping playfully on
freckles,
soaking in the sweetness of movement
Third, there’s the vendor with
shouldered boxes
selling dulces, empanadas
water, umbrellas
with a baritone call
his salesman’s song swimming laps on his lips
Fourth, there’s the sudden break to a halt
confused, a pause (¿why?)
a stop in an empty field
unto which half the bus
descends
or a prolonged pause because of:
a protest.
highway construction.
toll booth takeover.
sheep crossing.
flat tire?
Before any answers arrive we’re
off again.
and the afternoon light’s flirtation
warms my questions
away.
Fifth, there’s the music, sometimes
Bachata
In Santo Domingo
Mariachi
In Monterrey
Jackie Chan film, maxed volume
In Bogotá.
Otherwise, music still, but just –
The sound
Of rubber meeting road
Mixed with
A buzzing of intimacies
Whispers between colleagues just off their shift
Mom and son nesting, cooing
Two teenagers newly in love
Blurry hands feeling skin, skin, skin
The bus ablaze
Abuzz
With so many intimacies
Every time
I board that bus
I’m reminded
Of what a deep gift it is
To be riding
Along.
riding a bus where
Spanish licks from tongues
First, there’s the seat
fully reclined
stuck in this position
inviting…
(forcing?)
me to sit back
and melt into the ride
Second, there’s the window
three-quarters open
frozen in position
afternoon air whipping playfully on
freckles,
soaking in the sweetness of movement
Third, there’s the vendor with
shouldered boxes
selling dulces, empanadas
water, umbrellas
with a baritone call
his salesman’s song swimming laps on his lips
Fourth, there’s the sudden break to a halt
confused, a pause (¿why?)
a stop in an empty field
unto which half the bus
descends
or a prolonged pause because of:
a protest.
highway construction.
toll booth takeover.
sheep crossing.
flat tire?
Before any answers arrive we’re
off again.
and the afternoon light’s flirtation
warms my questions
away.
Fifth, there’s the music, sometimes
Bachata
In Santo Domingo
Mariachi
In Monterrey
Jackie Chan film, maxed volume
In Bogotá.
Otherwise, music still, but just –
The sound
Of rubber meeting road
Mixed with
A buzzing of intimacies
Whispers between colleagues just off their shift
Mom and son nesting, cooing
Two teenagers newly in love
Blurry hands feeling skin, skin, skin
The bus ablaze
Abuzz
With so many intimacies
Every time
I board that bus
I’m reminded
Of what a deep gift it is
To be riding
Along.