Poetry

The Bus Stop

by

C.J. Opperthauser

a brown bag rests impatiently beside her tired feet.
patterns on the sidewalk engulf her vision.

traffic swims by,
footsteps joining in song.

but her concentration belongs to the ground.
her wristwatch ticks. percussion.
still she waits.

waits.

finally, a hissing sigh from the curb.
home is calling behind the opening doors.
the bus has arrived.

The City

by

C.J. Opperthauser

a pack of big cats
growl their way to the red light,
coughing as their rubber feet roll to a stop.

crumbling concrete gives birth to weeds,
trampled by the black-suited creatures
scurrying to the big glass towers
that reach toward the neglected sun.

...honks...

.......hisses...

..shuffling...

.....sweeps...

envelop the stagnant air,
smog swirling round in the streets.

murky water drains into the infinite sewer,
time in the city drains into the infinite clock.