Avenida 2


By convincing himself

that there was nothing left behind,

he departed


from his dormitory, it was as if every road

the tricycle took led

to the rusty terminal of Avenida.


As he arrived, he hurried—

bought a ticket, then rode the bus.

It was always how fast he can.


He waited for it to be full,

but it had never felt full,

occupied, but never full.


As the vehicle started to move,

he realized there were things he left behind,

but too big to fit inside his bags.


There was nothing he could do


but in that moment, he knew

that ride shall not be the last,

but the last of what he knew was certain.


With accepting this—

that even the seemingly, infinitely

repetitive times of travelling end—


he sat with such comfortability,

as he found rest


in endings.


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