on the no. 3,
there's a guy with no teeth,
reading "The Executioner" close to his nose,
an older man with a lunch bag,
having a feast,
a rather large beauty,
with a rip in her hose,
some people stare intently into their phones,
some people sit quietly alone,
old Asian ladies with grocery boxes,
IPod wearing college foxes,
the no. 3,
rides like the hard truths,
so hard to see,
like this time of changing kingdoms,
and an Arab Spring,
like the doctor telling me,
to switch from coffee to tea,
like when the girls I like,
don't like me,
rock n' roll is my life boat,
in a pop culture sea,
C'est la vie,
on the no.3.
3 comments:
Wow, you struck such a chord with me. I've been bussing back and forth to the University a lot, and your description really hits home. Another charmer from HP!
These people are the stuff of poems.
oh that #3
You can get a lot of anthropological field work in while riding the iron lung. I kind of miss those rare occasions when I had to ride. Nice observations, Dox.
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