Country Music
an online journal of poetry
Home Issue 8 Contents Author Bios Archives Manifesto Submit

Peter Jay Shippy

 


In the wee small hours

 

On his desk Lucas kept a station.
Once, a bus stopped. The door opened

And two passengers disembarked.
They look confused, lost. Before

They could reboard, the bus took off.
Silly driver. The sign taped

To his thumbtack jar was clear
As day: Train Station. One commuter

Leaned against his stapler
And smoked a stinker. The other

Tried to nap on a pillow
Of pencil shavings. Bon nuit!

As he scattered sugar crystals
On their heads, Lucas whispered:

Don't worry, in the main
The Downeaster is quite punctual.


Next>

Peter Jay Shippy responds to art, economics, and Country Music not paying him for his poems.