.

6 PM Bus

Tired day on the bus.
A woman threatened to kill
a financial aid adviser
at the University. A woman
and her husband fought
over lottery tickets and carton
Marlboros.

Someone must have dropped
their shoes down a crack
in my soul.
I am drowning
in the debt of my future.
This smells of sewer and boots.

The sky is gray and gold
but I can only see
the fatalist inside of me grasp a gun,
aim and follow legend.
There is blood everywhere. I don't
care what anybody thinks.

"It feels like the 1920s in this bus.
Time to fill a tub with gin I say."
I wish were the 1920s.
At least we'd know
how to get out of this.