Into the burning afternoon

Into the burning afternoon
waiting for a bleeding bus
to take me to never-never land.

Stray dogs hungrily battle
over a dead pigeon -
tearing at its wings.
Trees blend dulcet notes -
of songbirds, of ripened fruits;
rustling leaves forbid tritones.
Discarded paper, polythene and foliage
dance hysterically on the biting road.

A gentle tug at my trousers
spins me back into pain -
the chamber orchestra fades out;
am I ever to feel it again?
A translucent boy with
translucent anticipant eyes
wearing a translucent loincloth
stares at me; his translucent
palm outstretched.

As I fumble for nickels and dimes,
the roaring old monster threatens
to fly by.
I scamper to the dilapidated coach
and dissolve into the cloud of
smoke and dust, inadvertently
brushing aside the translucent
outstretched palm.

Still, the translucent eyes bid me
a transparent good-bye.