Thursday, August 6, 2009

March 27, 2009

The southeastern city of Lyon
smells of gingerbread and cigarettes.

Standing at it's airport terminal
(named for some famous French author)
I wait in English for a mountain bound bus
to carry me and my luggage far from here.

Waiting with me are a gaggle of boarders
sure to have marijuana in one of their many pockets
a Midwestern couple whose orthapedic shoes reveal them
and a quiet businessman who's been sittting on his suitcase like a stool.

As the bus pulls up they line up
like migrant workers and feed their tickets
to the nameless driver.

Before closing the door he steps outside
to smoke a cigarette.

I can only assume his wife is at home
baking gingerbread.

One Lyonese couple just doing their part.

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