with no ears, Steve--
or is it about the bus he drove--
the bus to Pomasqui--
perhaps it is the destination,
maybe it is simply about places
that are just beyond your grasp,
the frustration, towns and cities
passing by the open window,
and you followed the directions,
yet you can't even stop for a visit
so you begin yelling at the driver--
he can't hear you--and he drives
faster and faster--doesn't he realize
you are on the bus ride of your life?
The doe appears
without her twins
most mornings,
scouring the ground
under the apple tree,
not willing to share
her knowledge yet,
all these fruits
that fall freely
during the night.
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