Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2014
At the bus station
grizzled men eat Milkyways
watching
runaways squeak around
in too-tight jeans
and babies cry to Jackson Browne
while we all read the National Enquirer
and wait.

On the bus mothers shift
bags and kids around in messy piles
the empty wrappers tell stories
while Willie Nelson competes
with static to sing in rhythm
with windshield wipers
and cigarette butts
tally the miles.
Written by
Leslie Herbert
809
   telluridehigh, --- and Mary
Please log in to view and add comments on poems