Bus Ride (First poem from High School)
I rode the bus every morning past the place cows call hell.
Steam rolled out of the mouth of the building,
bits and pieces splattered into a truck.
My head recoiled
as an empty stomach curdled within me.
But now,
even after seeing,
Even after a month of fruits and vegetables,
my mouth waters at the sight of a McDonald’s cheeseburger
and the aroma smothers
the nightmare in my mind.
Steam rolled out of the mouth of the building,
bits and pieces splattered into a truck.
My head recoiled
as an empty stomach curdled within me.
But now,
even after seeing,
Even after a month of fruits and vegetables,
my mouth waters at the sight of a McDonald’s cheeseburger
and the aroma smothers
the nightmare in my mind.
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