Outside the South Station Bus Terminal, Boston,
Cigarette and coffee,
Waiting for the tick-tock of an hour’s passing,
To go south still,
To Connecticut,
For my nephew’s bar mitzvah.
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Outside the South Station Bus Terminal, Boston,
Cigarette and coffee,
Waiting for the tick-tock of an hour’s passing,
To go south still,
To Connecticut,
For my nephew’s bar mitzvah.
Posted in Poetry
Tagged alliteration, boston, flesh, madness, song, south station, sparrow, spirit