Bus Terminal

[Johntee]

The poignant past,
a blade that shivs
the mind at last.

[Anne Harris]

That's wonderful! Love the last part!

[RhymeLovingWriter]

Wonderfully done Tanner. You frame the enigma with your words in a way that makes it real.

[amenOra]

Like this, the last 2 stanzas were particularly potent with beauty.
Thanks for another one

[Tanner]

Talking with a friend
Downtown outside late at night
Blur of passersby

You don’t see what is
Happening but someone takes
The moments away

You remember the smell the fumes
Of the ugly brutes
With hungry steel mouths
Leaving in the middle of night
From the Howard Street terminal in Detroit
There part of your forgotten youth
Was abjectly squandered on hard benches
Waiting for a Greyhound

While you waited for me
Down south in Bloomington lonely
As wheat heads
Under the broken mills of the moon
Reading Yesenin’s last poem written in blood

How do we know which way is out
I cannot help nonsense
We are all reunited with our shoes
Left to get there only on foot