the people on the bus down to Boston from Maine on I-95
the trees in multitude new leaves everywhere
and water ways
the heads go back and forth in awe, looking from tree to tree
river to river
in slow motion in blue cloud light

Boston faces hard and voices talking about
down on the Dixie
going to the river to the sea to
the west coast

flies by the Bud Light on tap
flies in my mouth
the sadness of seeing people
coming and going from all over
strangers from everywhere
walking quick
without looking