the bones of words remain behind like rumpled sheets without memory of sleep as day tosses a mixed salad of walking and arriving the hours melt into the water of day time slows for anxious eyes while rain marks windows and umbrellas below splashing on buses sizzling off neon’s coats of color … More FROM ABOVE
Always looking for the next bus that would take him to where he belongs not sure which direction and weather has no say traveling with a good hat and short story secrets, the ones unable to explain with just one line roads have adopted him pushing him beyond crossroads cant … More ONE DAY
Sealed within the envelope of night is a common indifference. Shadows appear equal. A corner musician pulls at the strangers eyes. Coins in the hat drinks for a night a city bus with sleepers roars by. Skelton road crews work for food. A walk between the avenues, neon signs wave welcome subways rumble below, buses … More MIXED AND EQUAL
She was leaving. Standing nervous at the bus station. A black misty night blocked out stars and formed halos around street lights. An announcement beckoned her ticket to the waiting bus. She straightened up, startled, pony tail swaying and saddle shoes moving in the direction of her escape. Travelers boarded in silence and then awkwardly … More ESCAPE
I just walked into the backside of out. A shadow familiar to me, although the road ahead was new. I took a bus to New Orleans. Open windows, crying kids, two days without a shower and living on crackers and warm beer. The city greets me with a hazy sunrise and the sounds … More THIS WAY OUT
Subways rattle overhead; long corners scream the voice of metal. Below, a street fills with faces. Anxious gazes, newspaper readers, nervous feet, fingers tap, hats tilt; waiting for bus #58. Warm city breezes swirl, painting faces gray and humid. Sweat stains armpits. Foreheads glaze like thin frosting. Collars breath unbuttoned. Sleeves roll up tight. Tiredly … More BUS #58
Roger Singer 