Tomorrow I Will Write It In Prose. Poem by RIC BASTASA

i tell you when i was away, i went to places that could have lost me,
everything was delayed,

the bus is old, the window is a glass with a crack which i do not touch afraid that it may cause injury to my ring finger,

the roads are muddy, and workers are repairing one wooden bridge,
we stop from time to time, a child is conducting traffic, the town is
crowded, and the street at night has no light,

i mix with those passengers carrying so many baggage, old men carrying fighting cocks, students with their ears stuck on cell phones,

i talk to no one because no one talks to me, and then the rain pours heavily, and then the world gets darker,

my silence is choking me, but then i want to be alive, and so i breathe

deep and hard. I realized something. Tomorrow i will write it in prose.