the trolley


one needs to come
on a mild and clear morning
and sit
at the trolley platform
and observe

take in as much as you can
feel the warmth
of midmorning california
and the light sensual breeze
against your cheeks
feel it lightly tickle your arms

close your eyes
and hear the sounds
the sploosh of the bus driver
setting her air brakes
the deep powerful rumble
of the passenger jet
shooting skyward

hear the joy in the voice
of the old man
as he greets his friend
in spanish
and shakes his hand
something about menudo
then points toward
the delicious aroma
of old town

hear the hum of the trolley
as it sits at the station
like a vacuum cleaner
rolling over the carpet
at home
a honk of its buzzer
alerting passengers
it is leaving soon

there is a change of moods
each time one arrives
and each time it goes
such an air of excitement
especially when there is one
on each track
then quickly it's peaceful and lonely
when they leave

you can see it in the people
who wait on the benches
alert and alive one moment
then sullen and quiet
when they've gone
over and over and over