Ode To the Bus Terminal
they come to pay respects like devotees
and offer libations for seat numbers at your kiosk windows
and you grant them not just a gate
but even a time of departure in the form of heavy black print
over thick cardstock paper
they come oozing calm, desperation, joy, anticipation,
and sweat over your lined plastic chairs
and you offer them the sturdiness of your upward scooped palm of asientos
they come speaking in many tongues
and you receive them
to you the tower of babel has fallen and the pyramid
of Cholula …
