Shredded

I.
 
10 o’clock at night
at the Chester Avenue Greyhound station.
I almost feel obligated
to feel depressed here.
There are lost freedoms and new
responsibilities to be found.
The walls and floors
have been spit – shined,
and new linoleum has been installed
in the waiting area.
The men’s bathroom
still smells like decades old urine, however.
Some things never change.
The same creepy / unwashed / disheveled
group of riders / loafers / ex – cons
lingers, waiting for a connection
of some type.
A blond girl with gorgeous tits
looks seductively at her boyfriend.
She’s obviously starting her trip in Cleveland.
I don’t care how sexual she is,
ten hours in 42b and she’ll be hating the world
and her mother, too.
 
II.
The ticket line is amazingly short
and I ask if anyone’s seen or heard from Andy.
There was a time in my life when I could have left straight out from here
on a whim, next bus out, please.
 
I could have left.
 
And I feel obligated
to feel depressed here.
But instead, this thought is made
rather matter – of – factly.
What is real freedom, anyways?
The ability to be irresponsible?
I don’t even consider buying a ticket,
though New York or Chicago
are well in my price range.
 
I could have left.
 
But I have a family
who love me.
 
 
III.
Think romantically, for a minute.
Not romantically / love
but romantically / rose – colored glasses.
My days have been spent frustrating myself,
and to what end?
Want to know where your friends stand?
Tell them you’ve fallen in love with them,
and no longer consider them sexless.
You can find out a lot about a person’s character
in these conversations.
Much like your trip to the Greyhound station,
and much like my trip from Boston to Colorado
(there is color in Colorado)
you will end up far short of where you started,
or back to square one,
on your best day