I saw chickens on the passing truck,
my own reflection inside the bus window.
A young couple dressed in Puerto Rican
flags sat bundled together in the back seat
whispering a familiar language I do not speak.
When he got off at his stop, she started to sing
that old Concrete Blonde song that goes
“oh, if you’re hurting so am I” over and over
to the world outside all out of order.
*A slightly different version of this poem originally appeared in panels on Comet buses (the public buses of the Columbia, SC, region) and the chapbook Poetry on The Comet: Two Cities, edited by Ed Madden, One Columbia/Indie Grits Labs, 2018, p. 9. Featured image: cover of Poetry on The Comet: Two Cities.