I step off the downtown bus
In humid, too-hot-for-spring heat.
I remember when I first moved
To this side of town and
Put a bridge between my geography.
Here, lines of skateboarders
And littered trails by the river,
Buildings filled with lives of every color.
I wander past cemeteries and parks
Both appear green on the map.
A train rumbles
In the distance with my thoughts.
I’ve learned a dozen roses will survive
Eleven days in my car with no water.
An unsubtle, browning message
That not even an end comes quickly.