613

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613

It's almost over now
One more pull
Smoke curls up 
These bright things swoosh past 
Shooting stars below

It's almost done now
Strangers in gaze 
As lights rotate colors 
And dance up ahead 

Nearly there now 
They push and shove 
Throwing coins at Buddha 
As He will bless them 
Crooks, chinks, apes all alike 
Sat in this monster's belly 
Hearing the crackling from their mouths 
As a familiar stench wafts about 
Two more or is it four stops 
I can not tell

These heathen roads do not take me home  

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