TRANSPORTS Poem by Umberto Fiori

Passing from asphalt
to a stretch of paving
the windows were vibrating,
underneath you felt the wheels
shivering. It seemed we were going to smash,
however, it wasn't serious:
people still standing, people sitting. Then
at a certain bus-stop
everyone's off. The empty bus
closes its doors, and goes.

On the bend
I grabbed for another rail
and felt it warm
under my fingers
like the head of a new-born child.