I first met Paul on a bus. I was on my way from Boston to visit my sister in New York. Along the way, the bus broke down. No cell phones, no two way radios on board. After awhile a blurry eyed Brit in the seat directly behind me woke up and said, "Hello." In the four extra hours we had by the side of the road a friendship formed. When I studied in England, Paul was already out of the country but his mother took care of me as if I were her own child.
Fast forward 40 years.
Thanks to the magic of FaceBook we reconnected. This poem was inspired by a quick airport visit. This summer my partner and I will travel to London to see him and meet his family. Traveling by poem I'd call it.
Here is the poem thanks to Plume for publishing it!
I look back through the window of a Greyhound Bus
stopped by the side of the road.
Before the cell phone or CB radio—
I travel back to the boy and girl wrought golden
His earth brown eyes reveal
a passion for simple rock face,
the feel of striation beneath well-trained hands.
Along the shoulder of the Massachusetts Turnpike,
in an age before water bottles or sensible snacks,
Press here for Plume and the rest of the poem