Morning Glory
RoberT Michael O’Hearn
What can anyone possibly say
or be thinking that’s intelligible
on a 5 a.m. city bus? Either
you’re bleery-eyed, and half your
nose sniffs coffee fumes
from a styrofoam cup, heading
for a much-needed job
or like me, coming off work
a member of a nondescript
wending home-alone crowd
Sometimes you rouse yourself
with newspaper headlines, sports
or business junkets, then
test your morning IQ
with a crossword puzzle.
Then with your eyes tiring naturally,
hypnotic and staring vacantly
at amassing ice on a passenger’s side window
your bus driver addresses you
with benign neglect, crossing out
each street in mind after passing
and verbally droning out its name
a glimmer of anticipation alerts you,
and magically wakens you the moment
before you approach your destination
- or whatever street corner droned -
at 5:30 a.m. that you still remember.
