Kicks Retired

Climbing aboard the

Dusty orange bus with

Squealing brakes,

Carbon monoxide

That covered every surface

Within range

Calling out to a

Sense of adventure

Open road, clear air,

Clearer thoughts,

Feeling of freedom that

Appealed to some feral urge

Within urban constraints

Stepping onto

Dirt ridden steel steps

Lunging forward

With the clink of the

Glass fare box,

Sweat of the driver,

Pre-air conditioning

Aromas of summer humans,

Rose perfume,

Yesterday’s corn chips,

Stainless lunch boxes

Sitting on brown vinyl

Next to

Finger smudged windows

That neither opened

Nor closed

Without a fierce struggle

Like all those fates

Aboard

The Route 66

Heading toward a

Perceived paradise

Just as adventurous

As the historic highway

For a kid who never before

Left the south side

Of the city




Author's Note: microbanshee.tumblr.com/