an abstract expression to the young lady sitting in front of me

on the Bedford and County bus

pardon me, but I glanced over your shoulder at your notations,

the brilliant one about hanky-panky,–– a lick, and spit!–– that takes guts,

and the saturated one about snail-slimed cabbages! that's a beauty!

such love so many will never come to know, but you, dear lady, you stick around

'till the rickety old bus stops one block before the steps to your house.

you know, it's too bad poetry makes us suspicious of everything.

what a glorious shame!––

so you’ll ride around with me again in our special way?  — that's good.

I'm an impatient man, but like the youngsters say: tomorrow waits for everyone.

 

away from home, I'll leave Pablo to his partridges, Dylan to his Nobel nasality,

and Ferlinghetti to his city,–– panting heavily beneath its bridge.

you'd think he's masturbating, and so he may well be.––such love!

well, my dear, tonight I'm going to listen to a Bach Cantata; No.146, I think.

what a jaunty gait!–– 

 

you know, I'd like to slip my latest poem to you, passing it over your shoulder

on our next ride together, knowing you may not appreciate the way I often

misuse dashes and over hyphenate.–– but then, like a magician's puff of smoke

we'll disappear beyond the steps to your house, and others will take our seats,

and who knows if they will be as rewarding for them as they've been for us.