The Bus

sit on a bus
     and ride through the city
like the prince that you are

        and you'll see her in places
in places that she's never been

   she might even wave
     she might even
                    smile

she might even try and sell you
flowers for your long armed dead

and the gray of the sky
     and the black of asphalt fields
will settle you in like an anchor
          to your heels

and the valley
                your valley
will keep screaming her name