Watching Icicles
A frigid morning, in a deserted bus stop
Shiv’ring, anxiously waiting for a ride back home
I’m all bundled up but still ice-chilled to the bone
Bitter cold I could feel my cheeks and eyelids throb
The bus real late, my poor teeth begin to chatter
Gloved hands, shaking, I tried to light a cigarette
But the Zippo in my front pocket I can’t get -
If the bus ain’t here soon, I’ll be a mad hatter!
And so I watched icicles melt to while the time
Dreaming of the tropical isle where I was born
Lo! Here’s the bus; it didn’t stop, then blew its horn
The bus was full, driver all smiles! oh what a slime!
11-05-2020
© F Aparici
This is a true story from my time living in New York City and working night shifts in a factory in Ridgefield,New Jersey. At 8:00AM I am on the bus stop (can't afford a car yet) waiting for a bus to go to Port Authority on 42nd St, thena subway ride to uptown Manhattan where I lived.
#2020
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