Results of an exercise
describing the different cities
of people waiting at a bus stop
Downtown Seattle, 11PM, July 5, 1996
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"This isn't City.
All the stores are closed.
This is Night,
and I am safer in my book."
"This is the place between work and home: the long dull ride
between frustrating boredom and irritation."
"This is the Main Street,
this is the Hot Time,
this is the Bad Dude,
you ain't gotta Clue!"
"This is the Feeding Ground.
There's a likely pocket.
Soft Touch; Too Strong;
That one's Broke."
People start to glance my way,
increasingly.
A woman on the bus
darts sharp, quick glances at me
as she reads car ads.
This is the Danger Ground
between safe burrows.
I am possibly Falcon.
I have discarded layers of gags over my mouth;
I never noticed
the silent press of the Gag Order on Eyes.
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