New In Town
New in town, eager to trace the unfamiliar shapes
of what home means now,
I board a bus, then another, and I ride all day.
Parrying hawks glide along the Kaw,
sycamores share secret handshakes with sugar maples,
porches beckon with the genteel order of their shade.
Backpacks everywhere up on Mount Oread,
shopping bags and tattooed biceps dot the stops in the valley below.
“Hello!” I want to say to each new rider. “I’m new in town!”
When the woman seated across from me,
meets my gaze and smiles, I give it a shot.
She’s friendly, tells me who has the best barbecue.
I may not be home just yet,
but I know the bus will carry me there.
Somehow.