Bus Stations

I got on that bus that goes a thousand miles

with a pure heart and the best of motives that ride was a mix of toilet disinfectant smells and quiet the first two hundred miles

at midnight or better, at a small depot in Alabama a whole bunch of recruits got on with their stiff uniforms and fresh haircuts and politeness

we motored on, the kids getting more restless and a poor guy that fell asleep on my shoulder and the hum of the diesel engine became an annoying roar

2 am. There’s a bus stop with vending machines and more payphones than I ever saw in one place. A few of the recruits were using them.

Chapter two tomorrow.

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