Gregory O’Brien

Romantic Voyage

We took the No.12 to some place
then the 14
         somewhere west
of there

         this deep in the flowery grass

we gave up waiting
for the No.5
         and took the the 23

         the crickety mound where the season sings

having missed the No.3
which was early
         we managed to catch
the 15
which was late
and took us as far as

         one green island, one gas tank, graffitied

that most accustomed of places:
the outermost edge
         of things.

Author’s Note


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