On the Bus
Life into legend, legend into life —
I once was you, Alex Supertramp — fresh
out of school, half nuts, no money, no wife,
no work, no matter. The sins of the flesh
were behind me, beneath me, beyond me.
Another self-inventing dharma bum
on the road to anywhere, off to see
the elephants, bound for glory. And from
such dry, dreary soil I’d sprung — I was you,
Alex — naked in my cast-off clothes, so
full of myself, so empty, just a few
well-tasted words were enough when the low
clouds to the west whispered, Get on the bus,
and I got on, and you got on — we wanted
more, magic, furthur, Alaska — I must
have crossed the river. But you? You were gone.
for Chris McCandless
© Michael Fleming
Brattleboro, Vermont
September 2012
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