1/8/19 – travel

We piled in on the megabus at 22nd street
Before the dawn, with the stars slipping down
And we were many, we were weary, we were nodding to music
We were old men who had long worn a frown
And there was nothing, nothing good, at the end of this trip
Not for me.
Not for anyone at all.
And we were strangers, and we knew it
Not a soul among us questioned,
Not the woman with her bible
Or her husband watching Miami Heat
Because we knew, always knew, that it had to be like this
No hands shaken, no words spoken – not a one.
Just the road slurring by,
And the crawl of the sun.

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