Ghost Bone on a Bus
I can't imagine why this was rejected by the New Yorker's poetry submission reviewers this morning:
Ghost Bone on a Bus
Where are you going?
Taking your time like a fancy lad.
Time's running out and you haven't hit land.
This boat won't get you far.
What are you hiding?
Life draining out 'til you're pale and cold.
All aboard now but you don't get a seat.
This train won't get you home.
Gone to take a ride.
Gone from your mind.
Ghost Bone!
Save your quarter.
Ghost Bone.
There goes another!
People see right through you.
You're nothing and never will be again.
You sit on the bus with chaos surrounding your soul.
This bus owns you.
This bus knows you.
You're nothing but a memory.
So ride!
Ghost Bone!
Ghost Bone on a Bus
Where are you going?
Taking your time like a fancy lad.
Time's running out and you haven't hit land.
This boat won't get you far.
What are you hiding?
Life draining out 'til you're pale and cold.
All aboard now but you don't get a seat.
This train won't get you home.
Gone to take a ride.
Gone from your mind.
Ghost Bone!
Save your quarter.
Ghost Bone.
There goes another!
People see right through you.
You're nothing and never will be again.
You sit on the bus with chaos surrounding your soul.
This bus owns you.
This bus knows you.
You're nothing but a memory.
So ride!
Ghost Bone!
posted by Cee in SF at 9:42 AM
5 Comments:
Me neither :D xxx
Hee hee! I don't think they take kindly to my exclamation point theory.
Dude! I am crying laughing. That is the best damn poem in the entire frickin' universe. You are my fave.
HA!! I wrote a story about a ghost bone in grade school and I always thought it was cool.
A bone with a soul? Hee hee.
In my story, it narrated its demise. A bus was involved, but I can't remember how. That's why I put the ghost bone on a bus in my poem.
Well written article.
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