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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Transportation · #1601127
A sonnet for class(contemporary, non-iambic and meteric play was OK)


People are‭ ‬shifting in hard blue plastic‭
seats‭ ‬in city buses all across the‭
country,‭ ‬with their necks‭ ‬craned forward,‭ ‬like‭ ‬birds‭
picking through squares of mud for the worm‭’‬s twists.
Sometimes‭ ‬their laden heads fall over and‭
matted hair spills on‭ ‬the‭ ‬window,‭ ‬pressing‭
their gaze‭ ‬hard‭ ‬against glass‭ ‬like they mean‭ ‬to‭
break through.‭ ‬I was looking over‭ ‬just such‭
a‭ ‬stranger(you, with your arms‭ crossed‬ up in‭
straitjacket fashion‭) ‬when‭ ‬our stares got all‭
tangled.‭ Y‬ou smiled a little‭ ‬and‭ then
I smiled so big it hurt.‭ ‬Our‭ ‬faces‭
were like hot rust from that fire we felt
should burn in every bus in America.

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