Four AM walks past
my bus stop
as I sit on the cold green bench
awaiting the first
number fifteen of the day.

Grief litters un-mown grass
and concrete
around the bus stop
where it was left
by undone people
coming home from work.

Roadside, in the puddle,
the moon gleam
shows no sign of its craters
where a rat appears
near a grate
then scurries over to
the brimming trash bin.

Four AM circles back
in the guise of a feral cat
silently padding
through the taller grasses.
She strikes the beast
slowed down
by a partially eaten
burger with cheese.

The fifteen arrives
and I carry both
this stomach-filling victory
and family loss
into my bus ride trance,
but set it on the seat
across from me.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney


A man we tabbed
Bunny Foo Foo
goes about
bopping city rats
upon the head
then loads
the limp bodies
into a garden size
trash bag
and lugs it around
he goes.

There is a place
below the streets
where he lays
the bodies out
in long neat ranks
and files.
He sprinkles them
with mushroom spores
in an effort to recreate
the fugal forests
from Journey
to the Center
of the Earth.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney