I never liked riding
on Greyhound or Jefferson Line buses,
because of layovers and the compacted sardines
taking up valuable airspace
All seated and going in for the long haul,
they are quite ready to make your acquaintance
by keeping you in agony with their company
The strange and unusual would always
take place in regards to the passengers:
“The sudden death scream at 3:45 A.M.
when you are finally going down
for the count, and can no longer see
the cracks behind your eyelids
because sleep finally took over
—albeit for a whole ten minutes”
“All hell breaks loose at 4:15 A.M.;
some guy’s shoes were stolen off
his feet while he slept, and the next stop
is a mere 150 miles away as we listen to his
homicidal threats of revenge”
And of course there’s always that one guy
who stands apart from the rest; we are sitting
in opposite aisles from each other, and he
has no timeclock
This is the pear-shaped gentleman
eating those radioactive orange “Circus Peanuts,”
that would appear in your “trick or treat,” Halloween
sack; the same confectionaries that you’d feed
to the dog—causing asshole explosions,
with the poor bastard shitting orange
for several days after the fact.
I’m sitting right next to the restroom
at the far back that he uses quite frequently;
I can’t help but think of the poor dog
A number of years ago, I had to take a Greyhound
from Los Angeles to Minneapolis
I couldn’t afford an airline ticket,
and it ended up being a lengthy horror show
Taking a vow never to set foot on a bus again;
I am still batting at 500
Biography
Richard D. Houff is the former editor of Heeltap Magazine and Pariah Press Books. He is also a journalist that has received many hate letters and multiple death threats with his columns over a two decade run. Comfortable in writing both poetry and prose, his work has appeared in: Aldebaran, Brooklyn Review, Conduit, Louisiana Review, Midwest Quarterly, North American Review, Rattle, Sutter Town Review, and many other fine magazines.
