While jogging I briefly thought I saw myself on the Dudley Bus outside Harvard Yard.

I Saw Myself on the Dudley Bus That Day.

I saw myself on the Dudley bus that day

his eyes: a blinking, flirt

with the mid-winter's sun-

watching

the slow, fade

of a dying afternoon,

his face shadowed

in five o'clock.

Half light,

no hair.

A bus of exiles

each mired

in their personal

affairs.

 

And that man

perhaps me

looked a million

miles away.

I believe I saw

him briefly yesterday,

and for a first time

on that day

we saw each other

and quickly

turned away.