i saw your first wife on the bus

i saw your first wife on the busI saw your first wife on the bus.
she was wearing
an ill-advised mustard yellow
cardigan
the color of an organ
in a textbook.
And she looked forlorn.

Not only that.
When we were idling
in the university circle
she looked, as I saw it,
longingly out the bus window
as though she both
hoped for and feared your appearance,
your bounding down the steps
of that grand-looking building
where your department lives
and where you
take your good fortune
utterly for granted,
as you always have.

Oh and as we approached
our small town airport
I looked out and saw two incongruent
contrails slanting up
from behind the mountains,
looking really postmodern
and painterly in the squishy setting sun.
One of the contrails was a little older
than the other
and had begun to blur.
I’ll add here that the cars
arriving and departing the airport parking acre
shouted ‘impermanence!’
despite the accompanying aggregation
of airplanes and air foil
technology there.

Well, I saw your first wife on the bus.
She was wearing
an ill-advised mustard yellow
cardigan
the color of an organ
in a textbook.
Of course she had those
goddamned ear wires hanging down,
and of course she looked forlorn.

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4 thoughts on “i saw your first wife on the bus

  1. Lovely, engrossing poem, with fine narrative diction.
    Thanks so much for your comment on my blog post about Conrad,

    Like

  2. Thanks so much. You are, of course, too kind by a little more than half, but I’m not yet too proud to grasp with both grateful little paws. I am working on my craft, though more often it is brazen Kraft – as in the Velveeta-purveying corporate megalith. Meanwhile, I do very very much appreciate your taking the time to read my piece…and I intend to plumb your own leonine blog and find more of the gems on casual offer there. I very much enjoyed your 5 Easy Pieces/Duke’s post, and will look for more gems and insouciant remembrances of the Lost Airmen of the true Golden Age of writing … and reading! Thanks again. It’s a privilege, sir. (I must find the piece you are said to have published in Amazing Stories!)

    Like

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