Greyhound Bus 1974

There is no sign
no crossroad.
There are no buildings.
Prairie grasses stretch around us
shimmering into the distance
and to the north
a low silhouette of hills
at the horizon.
The bus driver
in his grey brown brimmed hat
and grey brown uniform
leans back, listening.
He pulls to the side of the road.
The man behind him
grabs the shining pole
at the exit door
and swings down the two steps
and out into the field.

No trail, no markers
the grasses
pale gold in the rippling sunlight
he strides north
a slight unsteadiness
his blue denim figure
growing smaller with each step.
The driver turns back to the wheel
and we're on our way again.