We love the diesal-sweet smoking blast
from the bus we’re riding west, riding east,
just riding to get to where we want to go,
just riding to take us home where we want to be.
Are those mountains in the distance?
Are we going toward them?
(written for the Albuquerque SunTran Poetry in Motion Project, 1999. This one wasn't taken, but they did accept an excerpt from "In the Era of Machines" which is posted elsewhere on this blog.)