I’m home after a quick work trip to Manhattan. My plane landed at JFK around 9 pm Monday; I was tucking the girls into their beds at 8:15 Wednesday night. Every time I go to New York, I think of at least fourteen people I’d like to take a walk or have a meal with, a slow visit in their apartment, a drink together at their local. There’s never enough time, but I like to at least try. This trip, though, I didn’t make any plans.
um, i have shit to do this morning and leaking tears over my laptop was not on the list :) thanks for the pause. a bus stop is a holy place. never stop romanticizing...
Responding to this post extremely belatedly, but another public transit poem I love is “Riding the subway is an adventure” by Frances Chung. Check it out here: https://poets.org/anthology/poems-115
um, i have shit to do this morning and leaking tears over my laptop was not on the list :) thanks for the pause. a bus stop is a holy place. never stop romanticizing...
Responding to this post extremely belatedly, but another public transit poem I love is “Riding the subway is an adventure” by Frances Chung. Check it out here: https://poets.org/anthology/poems-115