July 2004 / Volume Five / Issue Three / Online
Neil Greenberg
the last bus

it is raining worse
than anything that I have ever seen.
I sit and watch
the junkies,
the drunks,
the pimps,
and the whores
for a while
on the cold hard ground,
missing the last bus
hours ago.

I waited at the depot
but you never showed.
you always said,
true love travels
on a gravel road,
and from here,
there's no turning back.

I wish to Christ
this raining would stop
bombing down on me.
I wish to Christ
I saw your eyes
fill with envy
one time.

the cards are all dealt
and the chips have been stacked.
I'm down.
drunk.
but I'm still on my feet
looking for you.

five green bottles sit on the floor
broken
and cracked.