Wednesday, February 20, 2008

Ode to Night Bus

Bumps and Bruises
Aching Ass
I hope this night bus will be my last

Broken Toilets
Random Drug Searches

Slams on Brakes and
Unexpected Lurches

Stumbling Around an Unknown Town
My tired face dressed in a frown

Night Bus Night Bus
You are not my friend

From the Depths of Hell
You did Ascend

(composed during night bus delirium to Tulum)

3 comments:

Unknown said...

Not bad for delirium.
I'm just delighted to hear from you. I just had this dream the other night about all of you. And even though everyone was fine and happy the "mom" part of me just needed to know you are alive and well...sorta well... Alive anyway.
Thanks for posting the hellish night bus poem. That's all I needed.
Though I am waiting to hear of your next adventures.
The last few days have been beautiful and actually FEEL like spring. Things are growing, birds are singing. Buds are coming on. Soon the cherry trees will be in bloom. Of course there's more rain on the way but it does feel as though winter has broken.
I look forward to the spring and to your return. 'Cuz, of course...I miss you.
Love mom

rachael said...

Per un' amica stretta,

As you already know, this is the Italian definition for close friend, meaning someone that you can wear snug against your skin, or heart. You therefore, are my very snug friend.

I must ask, where were you taking this Night Bus from hell? Where are you traveling to now? My travels take me from my house, to work, to school, and back again. They are too uninspiring for an ode of any persuasion.

I am managing to read a little, though, on my own time, and I am laughing OUT LOUD. "In need of more personal space than a herd of American bison." Hilarious. I can find you in these pages, but this is just one woman's search. I also love reading about yours.

This term is speeding up, in a constant state of climax. Soon I will be finished, and celebrating the conclusion for the rest of my life. I promise to be gentler with myself for spring term. Spring means: my garden, no more math, and my un' amica stretta. Slumber party?

natalie said...

ummm, you are amazing! sounds like a PRODUCTIVE bus trip. now tell me, who else writes poems about their bum on a night ride???