For years I hold a steering; same way, same stations, <br />the passengers same and colourless. My Bronx, <br />a crowd made of padded air, having a dry voice. <br /> <br />Then one day, I suddenly turn the wheel towards Florida, <br />me the driver and sole passenger of the bus. Oh, heavens! <br /> <br />It took them three days to locate where I was. What a rage, <br />what a steam did I cause to the Bus Company! Damn it <br />if we don’t dream and they direct us, without our will. <br />I took your place and I dared to break that mirror, <br />that one which blurs the eyes and deludes the mind. <br /> <br />I return to the city and my eyes with teardrops rejoice, <br />when I see the flags of your joy, bands to welcome me, <br />confetti, dancng in the street, cameras, radios blaring. <br />I bring you Miami’s dew to replace the heat of loneliness, <br />I fetch your body from the tomb, I come out like Lazarus. <br /> <br />You say the Company will forgive me, for your sake. <br />Now the important is that you dare to dance on a rope, <br />that you take my place and escape from the void. <br /> <br />For it takes much audacity to breed such cowardice. <br /> <br />Well, turn the wheel to the other country, the inner one, <br />let your gregarious self to step out, your hidden self in, <br />the hero who reveals especially in a period of peace. <br /> <br /> <br />© JosephJosephides<br /><br />Joseph S. Josephides<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-driver-of-bronx/
