The FAB&PP Poem of the Month for June 1998

at 5 thirty on a spring
morning the buses
leapfrog down the
the pesticide sweetness
of their interiors washes by
with summer sweet
breezes through the
open windows

the grey steel sunrise
shimmers above
the escalators
at the terminus
the buses roar away
through the birdsong
quiet for another
    as we descend
into the rushing subway silence
of the idling trains

their bells are sounding
the doors are closing
rustling open to
scores and scandals

dawn in the
downtown canyons

the cum-colored liquid wax
drying in the cracks
of the brick-tile station floor
the office
night guard still
on duty in the lobby

flash the pass
and sign in

and think about
the breeze and the
rolling rockabye rides
that got us here
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