taking the bus south

i see a duck

at

the bus station.

suitcase

beside his orange

feet.

he's wearing a fedora

and a vest.

what's going on, i ask

him.

shouldn't you be

flying south

for the winter.

i'm tired, he says.

he pulls out a cigar,

and lights it,

i don't think you can

smoke in here

i tell him.

so sue me, he says.

blowing a big puff into

the air.

i'm tired of flying

to florida

every winter.

i'm done with it.

i'm taking the bus.

i'd take the train, but

all they

have left are the quiet

cars.

i have to let out a quack

every now

and then, it's habit, you know.

people don't like

quacking

in the quiet car.

by the way,

do you know where i can

get a tuna sandwich

around here?

i'm famished.