I like writing poems
in buses.
I like the image
of letters leaving
and trailing
behind the bus
as it moves
towards its destination.
On stop signs,
I get stuck
on a word
letting it sink
in me,
leaving me
no excuse
to escape.
In every car,
bus, truck,
there is a poet
driving away
from something,
leaving his works
on the asphalt.
Not one pedestrian
ever dared
to read it
or pick it up,
at least,
to throw it
in the trash.
If only poems
fill up potholes
and bumpy roads,
bus-rides
would be
smoother.
