On the Bus

 

Life into legend, legend into life —

I once was you, Alex Supertramp — fresh

out of school, half nuts, no money, no wife,

no work, no matter. The sins of the flesh

were behind me, beneath me, beyond me.

Another self-inventing dharma bum

on the road to anywhere, off to see

the elephants, bound for glory. And from

such dry, dreary soil I’d sprung — I was you,

Alex — naked in my cast-off clothes, so

full of myself, so empty, just a few

well-tasted words were enough when the low

clouds to the west whispered, Get on the bus,

and I got on, and you got on — we wanted

more, magic, furthur, Alaska — I must

have crossed the river. But you? You were gone.

 

                                          for Chris McCandless

 

 

© Michael Fleming

Brattleboro, Vermont

September 2012

 

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