COLORWHEEL
After I'd spoken with you at the sumac, I realized there
was little to do : three days out yet, and a rainstorm
pelting. It would take a restoration to survive.
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The buses were lined up under the awning, one, two,
three. It always seems, in bunches, that it's all or nothing.
I watched the very tall man hunch over to get on.
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He's always with that woman not his wife : it's a workday
thing, I guess. They hug and touch, talk quietly and sweetly
to each other, head to head. I never like that stuff.
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One time, they were joking, as happens, about size;
someone made a crack about how 'big' the guy was,
and she blurted, loudly, out : 'The bigger the better!'
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It's pretty much the same each day. The lady driver remains
silent, but smiles. The same goons get on, and then off. All
the wisecracks and snide remarks go on and on and on.
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