Trip Ticket

Back on the bus to green grapefulness like gratitude but juicier I seize the seat across from my driver rotund grizzled fellow all studious and road worthy outside is high summer scattered flimsy cirrus clouds dashing about below blister asphalt scorching rubber wheels me in the middle tepid and obtuse squawking how much longer till we get there but all I hear is engine whine & shaky springs–say chief I lean over the aisle to chat say where we headed where we coming from he glances like a fish knife what’s yer ticket read sweetheart and fuck me if I don’t blush like a rabbit at the endearing.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
This entry was posted in poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply