“It ain’t all about potatoes,”
The waif girl from Coeur d’Alene
told me as we rode the Greyhound
Across the bare plains of Texas
From somewhere to nowhere.
I settled back
Into blue and grey upholstery,
Picturing days on the shore
Of Coeur d’Alene lake,
Wandering from somewhere to nowhere.
I have often wondered
At these brief exchanges,
Telling a story on a bus
As it rolls along an anonymous highway,
Between somewhere and nowhere.
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