Bus Ad

[Philatone]

V. 2.
changed S. 7, l. 2.
S. 8. last line, switched "rows" to "passengers"

I liked seeing you
talk about Jamaica at the bus stop
as I shuttled away,

a photograph of sand
hauling in blue waves,
casting out again
as a throng of beach umbrellas
and swimsuits watched.

Whispering I could be
one of those swimsuits, be under
an umbrella until there was no sun to hide,

you gave me an airline to call,
where a headset and a computer wait,
like a lawyer, to handle our separation.

Brushing shoulders to take a chair,
the bus made it tempting
to reach in my pocket and dial;

yet was it so different
than a flight to an island,

where a silent pilot
chained to routes and pedals
navigates from an under-lit cabin?

The man shuffling
from operator to wheel well
could have passed for an attendant,
an "Excuse me"
guiding his scan of passengers.

The middle seats slept,
the windows watched,
everyone waiting
for his open door,
her first step down,

my silent rowing
up the rivers of Broadway,
which stretch
not to oceans or sands,

or, to anyone else,
a paradise worth printing
on any wall besides the one I build,
brick by hollow brick,
when I am anywhere
but home.




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Original

Bus Ad


I liked seeing you
talk about Jamaica at the bus stop
as I shuttled away,

a photograph of sand
hauling in blue waves,
casting out again
as a throng of beach umbrellas
and swimsuits watched.

Whispering I could be
one of those swimsuits, be under
an umbrella until there was no sun to hide,

you gave me an airline to call,
where a headset and a computer wait,
like a lawyer, to handle our separation.

Brushing shoulders to take a chair,
the bus made it tempting
to reach in my pocket and dial;

yet was it so different
than a flight to an island,

where a silent pilot
chained to pedals and passengers
navigates from an under-lit cabin?

The man shuffling
from operator to wheel well
could have passed for an attendant,
an "Excuse me"
guiding his scan of the rows.

The middle seats slept,
the windows watched,
everyone waiting
for his open door,
her first step down,

my silent rowing
up the rivers of Broadway,
which stretch
not to oceans or sands,

or, to anyone else,
a paradise worth printing
on any wall besides the one I build,
brick by hollow brick,
when I am anywhere
but home.

[popeye]

Loved the read Phil, what a great daydream, can I go too, lol, the only thing I would change is 'spiel' instead of 'talk' but that may be too pessimistic in a daydream, top write champ!!

Cheers, jiminy


PS have you ever read Larkin's Sunny Prestatyn?

[Philatone]

hehe afraid you found the inspiration ...if I remember correctly, that is
I originally wrote a version of this about 5 years ago, when I was heavy into Larkin; wanted to bring my old poem up to date a bit

[Erthona]

Yeah, this has a nice easy-smooth feel to it, I almost feel like I am in a corona commercial.

Stanza 3 didn't make too much sense to me. I mean I think I get what you meant to say, but I'm not sure you said it.

I like the idea in Stanzas 7&8, and in fact would have liked to see that expanded. I found the way stanza 8 hooked into 7 a bit disjointed, as I clearly got the pilot chained, but the "guiding his scan of the rows." through me off a bit, causing me to have to back up and try and figure out what you were saying. I am wondering if you meant to use scan in an ambiguous way? If you did I think you may want to reconsider.
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It is very Larkin-esk. I didn't initially like Larkin, and then I found out he was a misogynist!
NO, actually the stuff I've read I have like, it has a nice sardonic tone to it. I haven't read much as you generally have to buy a book to read it, and if I had money I wouldn't waste it on books, I'd use it for something much more exciting like paying my electric bill. Ah! it's the perennial question, food-electric, food-electric?

[grannyjill]

Loved it as soon as I read it. It is what I try to tell myself when envy raises its ugly head....I look at huge yachts moored on the quay in sunny places, and decided 'I bet they're awfully hard work, there is all that keel cleaning, and deck-swabbing and all the hassle of paying the harbour bills, and employing staff, and the bind of deciding where to store them through the winter...not forgetting the choppy seas and sea-sickness....but, I suspect that I am only kidding myself.

I particularly liked -

a photograph of sand
hauling in blue waves,
casting out again
as a throng of beach umbrellas
and swimsuits watched. (loved it, loved it, loved it)

This next bit I am leaving in, even though it is utter rubbish! I am saying exactly how the poem arrived in my head.....but, the fault is entirely mine. I never seem to take in the title of poems, perhaps it is caused by my eagerness to read the poem itself. And 'Bus Ad' didn't actually get through to me....since in the UK we tend to say 'Bus Advert'.
but that isn't much of an excuse.

I'm sure that a tiny bit of tweaking wouldn't go amiss in parts, for example the use of the word 'talk' at the beginning. As I continued to read part of my mind was trying to decide if you had a Jamaican girlfriend, or if there was some old Jamaican guy on the bus talking to himself but that is a minor quibble. I kind of missed the word 'photograph' and I imagined the following phrase to be a day-dream creation, and even the 'whispering' still didn't do it for me. Re-reads brought me clarity, though so I'm happy with it just as it it.

[Philatone]

erthona- will certainly have a look at expanding the ideas of the 7 and 8: actually had a similar thought afterwards, and am glad you agree. As to the "scanning", will have a peek and see what I can add/ do to clarify.

granny- I'm glad you were able to connect with this! and even immediately! I'm glad you liked that stanza in particular; it was one bit that I was able to salvage from the older poem.