Pam Calabrese MacLean
Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada

Thereís no one on this bus
but me.

The woman in the seat behind,
her children asleep,
is already home,
the brother she hasnít seen for years,
pulling on pigtails that lie
wrapped in blue tissue paper
in her motherís cedar chest.

Her children are wherever
children go
when they sleep.

The man across the aisle is drunk,
cradles a bottle-
his ticket to anywhere

At the very front a woman reads a magazine -
Are you good in bed?
She hasnít turned a page in hours.

The young couple at the back
is getting married on Saturday.
If they knew distance,
they might ask now
about return trips and lost luggage.

I wonder where you
would be
if you were here?
Would you let this cold glass
the rough upholstery,
hold you
keep you
from exits and little ecstasies.