hermana:
i sit by you on the bus each
morning

& i can hear
your thoughts,
in spanish

you are a thought fountain
in silence, contemplating
the universe

i can hear various founts
of meditation
down the bus row

but your
mexican-indianos fount is
best

behind
pink goddess eyelids

umbrellas
against the sky


ii.
i hear the nubian
goddess
three rows down

(her t-shirt claims
she loves
portland)

she radiates
a lulling melody,
her thoughts almost
audible

she dreams in debussy,
gearshifts
& busdriver exhortations

i identify her as a
nubian
manifestation,
dreaming

when in fact she is all
things unknown to me

she hails from
black gemstone eyes

& may not
be nubian at all: rather something
else

she may know me as just
another voyeur

making poems
on buses

or worse.