Poem: Waiting for a Greyhound

Lady Waiting in Bus Terminal

"You may trod me in the very dirt. But still, like dust, I'll rise." ~Maya Angelou

Waiting for the Greyhound

by CJ Heck

Red-coat lady
waiting for a bus,
your hat pulled down
to hide a swelling
monument of love,
handbag gripped two-fisted,
leaving only the sleeves
to wipe the sadness
from your eyes.
So much misery
shares your dingy bench.

What happened
to make your life fit
inside a suitcase ...
and why is it the only thing
between your legs
at two a.m.?
Maybe wasting minutes
feels better here
with your suitcase between,
instead of him.

It's merely speculation,
but I suppose yesterday's hopes
and tomorrow's dreams
die just as easily
in a one-way ticket
and anywhere's a better place
than where you were.

Greyhounds may be late
but they don't punch or yell.


[From the book, "Anatomy of a Poet", by C.J. Heck]



“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck