Those long bus rides
between Urbana, Illinois and Wheaton, Maryland
were all in the interspace,
hours of smooth nothingness punctuated
by jangly nothingness
at change points like Cincinnati and Pittsburg.
Blurs in memory, dreamy,
taste of intensly needed sandwiches
and the desperate need to be clean.
Long half-sleep voyages
through fantasy, through needle-sticking
drives, erection, thirst,
looking out of the window for relief,
only to see darkness.