She may want a transfer
if her needs lie elsewhere.
Passengers speculate as to how she arrived.
"On four legs," says some sk8ter dude.
He is now Swami of the 7th Avenue Line.
There is a lioness on the bus.
Nobody tries to perv her.
She could chase down the passing bicyclist
but she can't open the window.
If you see a lioness on the bus, it might be her.
She is pregnant. Offer her your seat.
Her eyes are golden.
Her favorite poet is Lorca.
She wishes the signal bell were more musical,
and that it could be night.
_______
poem #8 of my 39 poems in 39 days.
First I was smiling, but by the end all I felt was wistful. This is one of those odd ones of yours that do several things at once and after making each one work separately, ties them all up in a bow. You make me wish I could ride the bus, just to give the lioness my seat. Another gem from your secret bag, Shay.
ReplyDeleteHoly crap! I cant handle how much I love this!
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful ride this poem is Shay!! I shall stand! The lioness deserves a seat every time! Love love love this!!!
ReplyDeleteLove it. I would give her my seat in a heartbeat. I wonder where she's going.
ReplyDeleteShe sounds fierce ... I love her.
ReplyDeleteIt was really great, and then you went feral with:
ReplyDelete"Her favorite poet is Lorca.
She wishes the signal bell were more musical,
and that it could be night."
That last line is somehow devastating in its truth of lionesses on buses. Amazing.
So imaginative.. a most strong and compelling image.
ReplyDelete