Ghost Bus

In the white veil’s fog

your thoughts wander in circles

white powder coating –

a candy you taste on your


Driving towards town

in a ghost bus

hoarsy cough from a lonely


a wolf between a flock o’sheep.

The poet being rattled along

tired frozen cobbles

between a sea of metal boxes

abandoned for another day

by their owners

running after hard-earned cash.

It supposed to become lighter –

lichtiger – as a mighty power

pushes grey clouds away.

Everybody wishes this

for the whole world.




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.