Cruising Past St. Peter
she never ran for the bus
she occupied the high-back-air-powered-throne
master of the door-control-handle
queen of the farebox
guru of the brake and gas pedals
her enlightened third eye a brilliant yellow
shining forever between the red and green
after forty years of bus driving
she could catch butterflies in the crack of her bondoon
the backstreets blushed at her bravado
the thoroughfares split
before her thick skin broke a sweat
so what if her gut could be mistaken for a beer keg
her language was bluer than Davy Jones’ locker room
she rode several hundred horses through enough snow
to humble a generation of sled dogs
she absorbed more offenses than a blocking dummy
you didn’t have to sell her on the notion of overpopulation
she pulled to the curb and picked up more characters
than Shakespeare Dickens and Rabelais conjured
so her brothers and sisters
still bouncing around in the driver’s seat
smile at the thought of her
cruising past St. Peter
A Nest of Whiskers
out of whatever he can find
between the curbstones
this old bird
builds a nest of whiskers
a little place
to rest his head
when it gets too heavy
to carry
insulated with sunlight
it warms his face
allowing every wrinkle
to open wide
like a great tributary of being
migratory by nature
this old bird
walks forever
following whatever street
beckons his buoyant shoes
his nest of whiskers
never farther
than his chin
where the wind
weaves loose hairs
like a loom
and the moon
makes a feather
of every wish
Two Old Guys in Wheelchairs
they’re not
going anywhere
those two
old guys in wheelchairs
sitting in
the nursing home lobby
hour after hour after hour
every morning one’s got
one leg
the other one’s got
two legs that’s three legs
between them
and four wheels
what
more do they
need to
circumnavigate the globe
crisscross
the sky dive the ocean’s
depth
Mickey “The Flying Busman” Mahan, after 30 years behind the wheel of a transit bus, has hung up his uniform and embraced his VOCATION PARADIGM SHIFT. No longer a negotiator of “time-points” he’s playing endlessly in his home studio (with his little dog), writing, making art and playing music. More: Instagram @theflyingbusman