a sleep-deprived late night ride
four late-nighters avoiding sleep as if
sleep was a mortal sin to be avoided.
from a back seat at the window
I daydream of Rosa Parks, resolute and valiant.
but this is the bus to nowheresville, and
I'm not Rosa Parks.
I'm cotton-eyed Joe who earlier slurped java
at the counter of a desolate diner where
in better moods would've been
an occasion to be memorialized. but here,––
I'm one of four late night vagabonds
riding the bus, nearing sleep,
instinctively leaning right around the left-lane bend
instinctively leaning left at the right-lane exit
on the road to no place in particular.
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