Late Bus, Durham

 

Nothing’s as lonely as a train not working
River’s flowing, Main Street smirking
My sleeve yellow with a quarter-sized shirt stain
Painting the soul of a car that’s turning
Mind to mush, all sorts of folks twerking
Nothing’s as lonely as a train not working
Relatives coming, I’ve long stopped calling
Patient desire, a mailman’s walking
Listen to rap at the bus station waiting
Asking me questions, trying to bait me
Muscles and mouths all irritate me
and nothing’s as lonely as a train not working
Blue boots stomping, lips silent singing
Oversized t-shirts admit higher calling
Corners of my luggage are punctured and ripping
Sticker with Andre, print spelling obey
Cop takes statements, luggage still missing
Nothing’s as lonely as a train not working
She grabs his hoodie, insists he’s sitting
Screams out no says stop it and shut up
Full-view frustrating, her orders annoying
All of us watching the boy, he’s squirming
She’s hitting, he’s crying, she’s smacking his backside
Nothing’s as lonely as a train not working
Light though windows, dull dreaming and rising.

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