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Open Poetry #23
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The Transfer
| Open Poetry #23 |
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The Transfer |
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RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533
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Between howled lurches and cat hiss airbrakes the Torquemada trained drivers deign to allow entry and egress. The white line Rubicon, once crossed, signals start of the game of try and fell the riders before they reach a seat. Closer to town embark monied passengers. This route starts with Orange Crush and Cheeto breakfasts in gloveless hands clutching blue Walmart bagged sandwiches, crests to Starbucks and croissant, lambskin cashmere that could (but wouldn't) pick up a dime clasping siver namedropped thermos. My neighbor smells of grizzled grief, grilled beef. Pocked skin appears spattered by acid rain, eyes dull as an ancient orphan's wake. A practised presence of non-existence he guards his tri-fold sports section as a convict would his tray. No feast of scores for me. Bunched in the morning flux a turrethead, I spin from bleak to chic neighborhoods and fantasize of the others, alternately oogling the college girls who fill the middle haul, eyeing angry minorities, folks who should be paying two fares, the occasional nut case, conversant to the invisible. On the rise of the phattest houses the bus slows. I watch the runway walk of the full length fur trimmed Cinzia Rocca with a matching hat that would have sat silly on another head, but was meant for this one. Enough hair to see blonde, her blue eyes do a quick survey. I look out the window to give her time for a longer look. My first reaction to money is to dislike it. I want to write of how she gets her make-up from the Potemkin Village collection, or that she wishes she had one of those paper toilet seat rings, that she'll throw away her shoes when she gets home. Our eyes meet. She looks frightened. I notice the x-ray sized envelope in her lap on this ride past many hospitals. Months ago I spill Zuzu's petals. Now I just want to smell a rose, maybe water a lily. It's my stop. I rise. I've another balancing act on another bus. "Happy people have no history" - French Proverb [This message has been edited by RSWells (12-14-2002 02:25 AM).] |
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| © Copyright 2002 Richard S. Wells jr. - All Rights Reserved | |||
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inkedgoddess Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-19
Posts 7392Ohio |
yes, we ALL are just spirits making our brief entrance in the material world. you live,you learn |
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Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
nicely done RS... you tell the stories well and the insight into condition as well as eople is aways an interesting one. I do appreciate your talent for this... I look forward to reading what you share. |
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Enchantress Member Empyrean
since 2001-08-14
Posts 35113Canada eh. |
Enjoyed the ride Mr. Wells. I too am a people watcher.. well done! ~Hugs~ ~ Season's Greetings to my 'family' at Passions ~ |
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MARK V SHELDON Member Elite
since 2001-06-21
Posts 3015In a corporeal internship... |
Your poetry has some of the most unique references and allusions I come across, and I love the momentary delay-effect of a meaning hitting me from the previous line as I'm already into the next one -- very cool "poetic aftertaste". It's amazing what can be perceived, given the chance... -MVS "AS ABOVE SO BELOW" |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
RSWells On another bus with the same comments of fuss? Enjoyed. |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
I've seen much on the bus, as I ride every day. With your eyes, I believe I've seen another layer. Outstanding write, as always you've piqued my interest in your POV. |
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Mysteria
since 2001-03-07
Posts 18328British Columbia, Canada |
You know, I feel like I am sitting next to you on these rides they are so vivid, and I enjoy them so much. I hope you tell of people you meet more often, as there is much to learn from those seen through your eyes, and many lessons we would otherwise miss. Richard, I do believe this is a favorite now, and as for the paper toilet protector, I never leave home without one  LOL. Enjoyed! |
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Sandpiper Senior Member
since 2002-06-15
Posts 738land of flora and fauna |
"a million stories in the city" and you tell them so well, enjoyed the ride! "And it was at that age...Poetry arrived in search of me...And something started in my soul." Pablo Neruda [This message has been edited by Sandpiper (12-14-2002 07:08 AM).] |
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