Chronologically, here is the first one I wrote since joining the masses of mass transit.
Nathan Dana 5/29/07
they call it
Poetry In Motion
these poems posted on the city bus
today it's a good one
the stanzas rolling smoothly and steady-on and
by the hulking Latino with the hoop in his ear
No good. He won't budge. The poem stops. The bus moves.
My eye drops
from the poet to
a man in my grandfather's hat.
His head, from behind, recalls Nate in my mind. For a beat until
he turns and I see the difference. The door opens.
He walks off the bus
(for just a little bit)
just like a good poem.