(Inspired by
Lizz Murphy)
At
the bus terminal
the
queue to catch a ride to Happiness
was
long and disorderly;
people
chatted and laughed.
I
had bought a ticket
to
Poetry Lakes
but
that bus was empty,
the
door was locked
and
there was no driver.
So
I stood at the end
of
the queue to Happiness
pretending
I belonged there.
An
inspector asked to see
my
ticket and my hand trembled
as
I held it out to her.
She
glanced at the ticket
and
looked into my eyes
until
I lowered them.
You
know your ticket
doesn’t
go to Happiness,
she
said, not today.
She
adjusted her hat.
Does
my ticket
pass
through Happiness, I asked.
Yes,
but the bus doesn’t stop there.
But
the bus to Poetry Lakes
has
broken down, I said.
I
don’t know why
they
sold you that ticket,
she
said. Did you tell them
you wanted to travel today?
you wanted to travel today?
She
touched my shoulder.
It’s
ok, she said, hop on
this
bus and get off at Happiness
then
walk up that steep hill,
away
from the town.
Follow
the road to the cemetery.
You’ll
find your destination
at
the top, the view is amazing there.
The
people in the queue
had
been listening in
and
when the inspector left
they
all remained silent.
I
couldn’t look at them.
I
heard them breathing.
Terrific poem Myron, thanks Lizz for the inspiration.
ReplyDeleteMyron does the nonet label refer to the nine lines only or are there more elements that a non-musician might miss - interested. I love this poem with its sorrowful layers.
ReplyDeleteHi Lizz. I just call them nonets because of their stanza lengths. Thank you for inspiring me. This poem would not have been written if I didn't have yours to respond to, so thank you very much! I will try this one out at the Melbourne Poets Union reading tomorrow night. We'll say how the poets respond to it.
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