Poem Thing


Late to the Party, I Join the Host


People who say that there is no such thing as bad weather,

Only in adequate clothes, have never spent half an hour,

With a bladder full of tea and a heart full of hope

At a bus stop in an unfamiliar town as the sun sets and rain begins.

Those who say “Go with the flow” have not considered

Such situations, where “flow” is not particularly desirable.


Sometimes getting there is half the battle, whether

You measure this run-in with public transportation

Or your whole life leading up to this: school and gym,

Band practice, college days spent studying in the sun,

The first job, hiking in the Alps, more school,

The teachers who changed your life for good or ill,


Bad dates, good dinners, and all the nights up to that

Moment when the cat patted your face to wake you and

You rose, a different person than you had been

The day before, the decade before, all of it leading you

Here to this wet bus stop trying to get across this

Town (in the correct direction this time) to find the party.

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