Eric Falci

Map. Legend

The bus routes were all in blue: curves only sometimes
Corresponding to how the buses moved

Among flat-beds and container trucks
Along the week's traveled groove. On hot days

The routes bled into the rivers, and turnpike's
Pooling tar edged over city lines.

The rivers, a species apart from the buses,
Often gave the sky in glass, but only
That scrap of sky that had already passed.

A map=frail city in full color,
Or another version of the same hour.

Although enough had been charted that you
Could get around in it, some corners
Were still entirely unreadable.

Soon they made progress on one of the tatters
And you could make out something with a split rib-cage:

Dragon or anchor riding the water.

On legends, some lines=festival or
Travel or the usual stretch of closed-off shore.