night bus
for the second time, south
leaving you where the winter
is slowly coming on
for the second time, the night bus
carries me away
toward an uncertain future
we have plans to meet again
maybe next spring
on a cherry farm near Sendai
like all plans, they’re just
shreds of mist in a valley —
lost when the sun rises
boarding the bus in New York
I turned to look for you
to see whether you’d waited
but I couldn’t find your flannel shirt
in the rush of people
already lining up for the next bus
20 September 2012
on a bus
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