DUCK THE FODGERS (written 2-8-10)

One, two, three four

buses passed us before

I realized we were in the wrong place to be waiting

for any sort of bus to begin with,

the sun resigned hours before

and my bladder was bursting with a brewery’s finest.

My friends always rely on my technology,

my not so smart phone,

to navigate our way throughout this city,

catching connecting buses every weekend,

and my lack of directional sensibility

all too often brings barreling down a dead end.

I once took a cocky coworker to a Dodgers baseball game,

the peanut shells crunched beneath my toes,

watered-down margaritas cost me more than my paycheck,

a group of faternity brothers broke into a brawl

during the 7^th inning stretch in the bleachers section,

and I made the grave mistake of giving my guest

a few too many guzzles

of my vodka disguised in a voss glass water bottle.

As expected, I led us the wrong way,

made us await an arriving bus on the wrong side of the asphalt,

and against my will we hailed a hybrid taxicab

to transport us to a fast food joint and finally onto Fulton.

I wanted to prove myself right-I wanted to try and try again

since I had not first succeeded.

What a sweet man, that cab driver was;

Asian-American, a polite build, and tolerant smile;

I suppose we were waving wads of bills in his peripheral views

but still…not too many banana painted vehicles are

up to the demands of a Dodger fan and a drive thru.