Peter Jay Shippy
In the wee small hours
On his desk Lucas kept a station.
Once, a bus stopped. The door opened
And two passengers disembarked.
They look confused, lost. Before
They could reboard, the bus took off.
Silly driver. The sign taped
To his thumbtack jar was clear
As day: Train Station. One commuter
Leaned against his stapler
And smoked a stinker. The other
Tried to nap on a pillow
Of pencil shavings. Bon nuit!
As he scattered sugar crystals
On their heads, Lucas whispered:
Don't worry, in the main
The Downeaster is quite punctual.
Peter Jay Shippy responds to art, economics, and Country Music not paying him for his poems.