Wednesday, June 17, 2015

Midnight Bus


                                                     making your way down the center aisle

                                                     you take a seat in the back next to him

                                                     ride the quiet miles toward the hills of Tennessee

                                                     so that when he speaks

                                                     you already belong to the past



                                                     thirty seven years later

                                                     you will sit at your kitchen table late at night

                                                     think of him

                                                     the strange alchemy that brought you to that midnight bus

                                                     his dark hair in dim light







10 comments:

  1. Your poem raises memories of bus rides and trainrides during which enigmas appeared and remained --mainly in the 1960's-- looking for America, finding people. My, how vividly the memories revisit. Powerful poem.

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    1. "... looking for America, finding people." I like that. Thank you so much for commenting.

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  2. Reminded me of a night trip on one of the old "Vista Domes" train cars back in the 60's, traveling from western Montana through Idaho and Washington. By the time I reached Seattle, I had a new love.

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    1. How wonderful! So glad you shared that ... :)

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  3. I can't help it. Every time I read this, I'm reminded of "Midnight Train to Georgia." It's funny, our associations. We can't control them at all. They rise unbidden, and they will command attention. I suppose in a way that's exactly what poems do: capture our unbidden associations.

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    1. Yes, exactly, and unique to each reader ... :)

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  4. It is these memories that gives life texture. Yes?

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