This is a poem about seeing it both ways,

about an idealist running for a bus and a realist

driving that bus and seeing a hopeful man

running and waving high and meaningfully

with his briefcase flopping against his thigh

and his excellent tie flapping in his face

as he sprints toward the slowly departing bus.

The bus which is departing. Which is to say

moving away from the curb. So you see, it isn’t

stopped. If it were stopped it would be another

story. Another poem altogether. But this poem

is about a man who believes in communication

while running and waving his hand at a moving bus

and another man who believes this man has missed

this bus and is driving this bus and sees a man

trying to stop a bus with the wave of his hand

and a briefcase full of papers, briefs or notes

for a class at Harvard perhaps. And he chooses

not to stop the bus but rather to drive right past

this idealist from Harvard who has missed the bus

and thinks he can reverse it or revise it with his hand,

as though it were words, as though it weren’t

what actually happens. But he can’t. No, not this.

Paul Hostovsky’s poems have won a Pushcart Prize, two Best of the Net Awards, the FutureCycle Poetry Book Prize, and have been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, The Writer’s Almanac, and the Best American Poetry blog. Find more at www.paulhostovsky.com