gas in the motorhome
just about ready to roam
where ever the catalogue says
and we fly around all the bends
                                                      heading to some sanctity
                                                       while the craziness takes over for a while.
comfort the pedal
as we meddle
with the ideas of prosperity
in another definition of integrity
                                                      *lost souls searching
                                                      for another reason to not drive us all off the road

My poems hide in my morning cup of coffee.
In good hair days.
In nights without homework.
In the little victories of life.

My poems hide in board games while camping.

My poems hide in falling of a horse, but getting back on.

My poems hide in crazy and untraditional habits.
In rearranging and organizing my bedroom.
In summer trips to the emergency room.
In the dents, bruises, and scars that I seem to collect.

My poems hide in compliments from strangers.

My poems hide in the eyes of animals who have grown up alongside of me.

My poems hide in moments spent with my best friends.
In sleepovers in the motorhome outside my house.
In Tulip Time parades twirling my baton.

My poems hide in the embrace of a long-distance friend.

My poems hide in my parents, and in the times they are proud of me.

My poems hide in the memories I’ve made.
In mission trips where 9-Square and hacky-sack are the main pastimes.
In seashell hunting on a clean, white beach.
In being a queen in the eighth grade show.

My poems hide in the trips that I take.
In the adventures I have in ordinary settings.
In the twenty four hour ride to Florida.
In the states I have yet to visit.

My poems hide in my relationship with God.

My poems hide in all the beautiful, trivial things around me.

My poems are constantly hiding, waiting, begging to be discovered.

It was June 6, 2015
This was a bus trip that convened
As I go along, you will see what I mean
It was the Metropolitan New York Bus Association Event
From New York City to Pennsylvania we went
We stopped in Lebanon, PA for a bus pulse stop
Timing couldn’t have been just right as seeing the buses kept our hearts functioning tops
Later, it was journey on to the Museum of Bus Transportation and the Spring Fling
However being a bus enthusiast was a good thing
There were all kinds of bus models for sure
Yet, there was plenty to explore
Viewed the Silver Eagle Continental Trailways, Golden Eagle also of Continental trailways, MC6 Motorhome Supercruiser and much more
Let the exploration go on
After that, we moved to the Annex, which was a drive away
There was a lot with more buses to see
There was the MC8 Peter Pan bus, MC9 Bonanza Bus Lines and who could forget a Capitol Trailways Buick car that travelled from Pottsville, Pinegrove and Harrisburg, Pennsylvania
Before buses hit the road, they started as a car in buses begin
Things started to change from when
Yet stagecoaches were put to an end
The only thing about that, your **** got sore and the pain you just couldn’t ignore
Being a bus nut s we hobbyist are called
We are the bus industry preservationist, and the buses we stand for all
Now I added 2 new buses to my large vast models collection
Buses are more than just over the road, they captured my heart in their behold
This is my own personal vibe being never told
I am being honest and bold
Buses have been my passion since the years of my birth
They will remain with me until my death on this Earth
Bus models have changed over the years
This is why I still preserver
Buses from past have become my memory that shall last
Museum’s capturing buses in still, but being determined has become my will.

Aging like a fine wine (if I liked wine)
Narcissistically loving, proudly broken
Daughter of the Pryors, Moe and Vickie, soulmates
Lover of calm breezes on my face
As I run the first of 10 miles on a Sunday morning made for me
Who feels invincible in that moment
And defeated, small, and petty the next
Who fears for her children making their place in a brutal world
Who would like to see America from a motorhome,
or Spain on foot
Resident of the heart,
living in the soulfulness of early ink-black mornings
Stampeding and triumphant

Jerry, the GM PD-4106 bus is what I call
There was a period of stall
But wait, that’s not all
The GM PD-4106 bus of the past with possibilities
The bus was once the workhorse at Greyhound being reality
But because the PD-4106 was a bus of the 1960’s, it no longer had a function
The General Manager and Maintenance team had stuffed the bus way in the back in the bus company’s yard behind the garage where no one would notice
The Smith Brothers Bus Company had Heavy Charter traffic, and with all new updated features that the GM PD-4106 didn’t have from the past
So Jerry being had no use, but stay in the back and collect dust
The General Manager and Maintenance felt that was an absolute must
They thought there no fuss
How uncertain they were
But something happened for the good for GM PD-4106 that no one expected
A group needed to charter a vintage bus for a bus museum trip
Jerry was the only vintage bus on the lot
It wasn’t a plot
But I can tell you, the updated buses didn’t like that a lot
Jerry the GM PD-4106 was finally noticed
The updated buses started jealousy around the bus company place
Even the General Manager and couldn’t even erase
Jerry was the talk of the town
So vintage buses, man your stations
You are still the best from vintage back of all time creations
GM PD-4106 proved that
It is pure fact
So what happened to Jerry after the charter?
Jerry became a permanent bus to a proud owner in becoming a traveling motorhome.

tripping so hard licking dry cement
talking so wack losing all common-sense
dreams so dead what did any of it meant
babe’s flesh feels like plastic meat

eyes all wide LOOKING RIGHT AT ME
EYES ALL WIDE glares just like a creep
no one speaks RESPECT THE DEAD
NO ONE LEAVES this is the end

delirious hyperactive paranoia
delicious hypersensitive paraphernalia
spongebob episodes play out like a poem
sobbing like a hobo in my motorhome