from someplace to nowhere / a late night bad mood poem

the bus is despicable.

each head an empty coconut

rolling downward into a tube of skin and bone.

from the back seat at the window

I pretend I’m Rosa Parks.

I’m scared but I’m valiant.

but I'm not like Rosa Parks.

I'm cotton-eyed Joe at the lectern. 

I'm like the other coconuts 

nodding half asleep,

leaning right around the left bend

leaning left at the exit to nowhere.