Laurel Nakanishi
A NOTE ON A VACANT BUS SEAT
I lived in threes
eating dust molasses the wrong side of wonder
I knew better I would make that walk every day Attaining steps and then
losing them
The days opened and closed like the ribs
of some injured
panting animal I would time my crossing over
with an intake of breath
I was always on one side or another I lived
reasonably enough
Two doors down there was a widow I was not her
I knew some good jokes
My bedspread my pump soap
my boxes of tea filmed over
with pale laughter I lived among others
they wore loafers and heels I saw their good-natured ankles
slip ever so slightly out of their shoes I knew where to go
There were the annexes the new iron bar
the lights turning to green always
green That was the wonder I lived like
that – My body
a long rope it wound
and unwound The days crawled away And although I knew better
I could not wait for the easy addition
It had to come suddenly stirring torrents from gutters
blowing out clumps of hair