Thursday, March 31, 2016

Never Mind That Morning Sun

[everything in this poem really happened]

never mind that morning sun
that gets in your eyes
at the same time everyday you

fight the glare of it crossing
desert concrete, several parking lots
to get to the bus you're not sure

stops at the bus stop sign
because they'll tell you
on the telephone line

of the main bus terminal
in your first week on a temp job
that may or may not become permanent

but they won't say when
your driver took a wrong turn
and is somewhere out there on

the highway: why it's different
when you move from a metro area
to a town that's small in unpredictable

ways you'll never get used to.
still, they've mockingbirds by the score
and trees with long lived branches

forming canopies everywhere.
and children who stare
at helicopters

in the shopping centers
going over
as if it were just after

the Wright brothers
finally got off the ground.

mary angela douglas 31 march 2016