GREY DREADS OF DAWN

Martha takes charge of the bus - open, warm,

friendly. Shuffling in at six-fifteen;

we’re thankful for the humanity

on display. But first she exits to do

her set exercises – knee bends and arm
stretches that buoyant her mood and grace.

Previous drivers have need to show and
exert their pride - pilots on the Trans-Bay

airway, - cruising down into San Quentin

Village, where Miriam and The Reader

disembark, and we pick up the dude in

high school threads – sharp and coordinated.

Paul and I discuss the economy’s

deterioration. Ending daily
in pathos and impotent rage. He falls
asleep, I read, and the moon over Mount
Tamalpais looms through the rafters of
the serpentine Richmond Bridge. The Marin

lights sparkle as Reyna chats lovingly
into her cell phone telling her daughter –
to wake up and get out into this world,
and find her paradise! Sigmund meets me
at 19th street and we share stories of

travels in West Africa. Far from home.

Franz Fanon, bundled up in a headscarf
recedes into the back of the bus with
wary eyes. The subdued quietness echoes
thru the cavernous space as we rumble
into life, careening out of the El
Cerrito de Norte bus terminal.

Along the way we pick up two super-
fine black women. Mysterious ladies
whose charm and fragrance fire the passions of
intimacy. Such vibrant skin at dawn’s
awakening. But they too retreat to
the back of the bus and radiate their

companionship throughout our traveling host.
Martha’s long grey dreads reach down her long, long
back. Her stewardship secures us with name

recognition and respect for us all.

We workers, who chase the dawn into San
Rafael - the sunshine colony of hope.

OPEN HEART POETRY

HOW TO GET THIS BOOK: amazdah3@yahoo.com $10.00