Is there space on the bus
Moving in one straight line
In space and time
All along
While the bell rings
From the yellow line
All the way down the roads
As the old chains creek and pull
The linear bus and its passengers
Freewheeling
At last
Such a lonely job
With a short description
A round sad face
In a Rockwell exhibition
With tears at the computer
And no real sign of life
In his eyes
Just trying to make the call
Get by
With a new promotion or design
Thinking now of how to resign
With dignity and praise
For these are his final days
The course bank
Amongst the ranks
Of the young and old
Playing it up straight
Holding on hold
The debts owed
To the course bank
In time repaid
Or confiscated
When the winners lose
And the other waited
Notorious jurisdiction
Makes it heard
A new infliction
Point and moment
Sight unseen
This is what the new world means
Stall exhibition
No prohibition
Problems made
With no resolve
We have to grow
And evolve
Stalling out
Over the holidays
For the world can say
What a great nothing
What a moment to cease
All of that just to
Keep the peace
Red lights at stops
At this stop in the year
The south shore train
Draws near
Blinking in red and white
Double wide loads
As the snow blows
Between the signs
Calling a slowdown
A new year bustles with possibilities
Here
Build wane
Up in the clouds
Near where the rain
Turns to snow
In the waning hours
Of letting go
Up in the lit stars
Among the wires
It looks the same
As when the build falls flat
And the feelings wane
Clean up my face
In a heartbeat
In its place
A tidy smile
For all feelings
All emotions
Rolled off
Like the waves in the ocean
Helping hands
Lift my upper lip
To keep the swagger up
To have a clean fit
Along the southern shores
Of Lake Michigan
Where the steel mills billow
Black soot into the opaque blue sky
Lies a city
About 40 miles wide
And more
Here along the southern shores
Of a fresh water ocean
Where men and women walk
Along a magnificent mile
City streets
Of Chicago style
What am I drawn to
Hope for the future
Caring and nurture
I challenge my own words
My own notions
Undergo forgiveness
And simplicity
I have to abstain from
Drawing entitlements
Made in vain
A Cup of Songwriting 