Postcard

It’s a foggy
afternoon on Geary Blvd.
I am late for work and
step outside just in time to
miss my bus
and when the next bus comes it is not
my bus
this bus is bright red and shiny
not like my bus at all
this bus is two stories tall
and in big yellow letters across the side
it says San Francisco Sunshine Tours
this bus is packed with people
with faces pressed to windows
and a man with a microphone
stands at the front pointing and
telling them things
the people stare and take pictures
with digital cameras
maybe the man with the microphone is telling them
how this all used to be
graveyards and sand
and here on your left is the Seaview Liquor Store
(from which you can’t actually view the sea)
and look quick and you’ll see
the elderly Russian lady
counting dimes for a bottle of cheap
red wine
and here is the hung over man
late for work
and look
he left his fly undone
and the people take their pictures and I wave
hoping maybe to become somebody’s postcard
to send back home to Kansas
or France
or wherever the fuck
and then the bus is over a hill and gone
and I am left waiting for my own bus
which will arrive
too late
like always.


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