Like Buses

Like buses…

At least three at a time

They come

And she

Their muse

Their love sublime


as they walk the walk and

talk the talk that lovers talk

and say those things they think they mean

And she will smiles her muse’s smile

And try to look sublime awhile

Because she knows

like buses come

there will be three

then two

then one

and finally there will be none

and she will stand a long while


getting cold and agitating

about those things they thought they meant

Like buses

That have been and went

Like buses.


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