A HUGE discovery (on an overheated wet snow stinky stuffy bus
no one
not the grannies, the discolored, the over bundled, or even the seven and eight year old noisy brats, (towing blonde nineteen year old au-pairs from Sweden)
doesn’t have their face planted on a screen
most messaging when the light shines in and the illustration is illuminated through the stink of overheated humans on a bus-poet
i can tell everything about you from the way you tap on the screen
you nice you mean you possess a southern drawl, a handwriting less ‘n a scrawl, you are a passionate lover slow and languid, you’re a bath splasher, a snowball thrower, believer anything wet, well, should be a shared liquid
your think all lives matter especially mine
who plods thru life slow and safe one key tap at time, making love in the same way and never in the afternoon
whose mother loved them swell well and made them crazy people who smile at everyone sharing their terra chips, body parts and sweet spicy spit with loving tenderness
the ones who write beneath colored decorated fingernails so careful not carefree using the finger pads to message and never break a nail or own a heart making a mess worthy of cleaning up with a repairman
who lies ‘n cheats on their taxes and their lovers with reckless impunity because you are so important then what the heck you doing on this bus with us plebeians?
and the one next to me generationally born to use two thumbs, but pauses to reflect on the way humans speak to one another before desensitizing blurting any old thing
And the one to whom I show this poem and insists I miss my stop so she can text me her digits and kiss that thumb a year later in front of a smoke perfumed fire and she whispers smarty pants, mr smoke scribe, who writes only love poetry watch, what does the smoke say?
but it says nothing that cannot be best expressed by letting my thumbs do all the talking by tapping all over her body
1120am est over Utah and she laughs and pinches punches me saying u thot Utah a purry cat!