Bus Poem 4
Just out of Cheyenne, a Greyhound keeps pace
with a VW Bug, yellow, this girl’s suitcase
down below, full of matches, bubblegum,
pink socks, cigarettes
and studded leather belts.
The punch of sunrise wipes
the guy in black jeans, white shirt,
the one she sniffed out
at the last truck stop.
He sleeps now, face a total blank,
dozing with the other passengers.
The Chevron station