The sound of a Greyhound bus
at four in the morning
and each passenger
getting on or off, each
direction involving the bathroom
or snacking or nicotine
the soft rumbling that fills
and covers each sound about it
except for the siren of the
local police racing toward
the scene of a newfound riot
this time turned violent
and therefore illegal
with people who once rode buses
stealing TVs to watch
the news of their delinquency
and how it wasn't that
teen's fault for touching
that girl the wrong way
because it was okay
when it happened on MTV
which they also watch
on their stolen televisions
because music needs
that extra picture
since of course the radio
is obsolete, despite
the fact that the M
even in VH1
has disappeared, leaving
only drivel, to rot
the minds of more children
whose Real World is
no longer so real, and
who detest the school bus
and eat only cheese
pizza despite home cooking
that they will miss when they leave home
and the old store-bought TV
to visit all of the
identical children of
their generation by
an 80-dollar ticket
to hear that rumbling sound
of a Greyhound at four in the morning.
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