antebellum

“before the war”

He waited at the stop.

A moth hit the streetlight once

and moved on.

 

Tattered timetable

was out of date.

He read it anyway.

 

In the glass of the shelter

he saw himself, nothing special -

 

just a face in a surface

doing what faces do.

 

A bus passed.

He didn’t signal.

It wasn’t his route.

 

 

 

 

 

.