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other poems
sports poems
china poems
Bus Depot Reunion
just over the edge
of my Life a young sailor
bounds from a Greyhound’s
hiss into his mother’s hug,
steps back, trades hands
with his father, then turns
to an old, hunched man
maybe his grandfather—
no hand, no word goes out,
they regard each other,
waiting for something, and
now their hands cup,
they begin to crouch
and spar, the old man
coming on like a pro,
snuffling, weaving,
circling, flicks
out a hook like a lizard’s tongue,
the boy ducking, countering,
moving with his moves,
biffing at the bobbing
yellow grin, the clever
head, never landing a real
punch, never taking one
until suddenly, exactly
together they quit,
throw an arm around each other
and walk away laughing