The Field Bus

The Field Bus

He was drowsy when the moon waded through
the old bus parked in the cattle field
Just on the rims, both he and the bus,
buried their last days, stiff with rust,
a rust that lined the bus & man,
and neither planned to run again.
Each morning cattle edged in close
to hear the sound of rattled feed,
to check the windows with half an eye
and gnaw the ground in a restless brood.
Beneath the bus a warehouse grew,
of coolers, old tires, heavy tools,
while on the inside, only dust
and one small picture in a frame,
some smiling woman that he thought
might lend some interest to his life.
Some woman that came with the frame
and might have been someone he loved.
But she was no-one, as was he,
and he had twenty head to feed,
so the bus creaked loudly as he walked
out the side door into dawn,
out the side door, joints on fire,
into the cold of winter's sky.

Reviews

[Larry Dyson]

hmmm alot of Texas backwoods..."he had twenty head to feed,
so the bus creaked loudly as he walked
out the side door into dawn,
out the side door, joints on fire,
into the cold of winter's sky."

[Doctor JKC]

It's like a dream.
But the reality is I could find myself there without
even knowing it.

Wonderful!
Jack

[Dennis Shanaberg]

This is an exquisite piece. It's depressing in it's reality, but beautiful nonetheless. The line "she was no-one, as was he" really struck me. It's filled with all the fears I have as I grow older. An amazing work.