Bus poetry. Unknowing, I understand.

One of the several delights of becoming a regular bus rider again is the improved quality and interest of the in-bus advertising. In the old days, most of them were garish, dreary ads for bankruptcy lawyers, blood plasma donation centers, earn-thousands-at-home-in-your-spare-time scams, etc.

Now, almost all of the ads are public service announcements, e.g., information about new bus lines, rules for using a cell phone or music players on the bus, phone numbers to report lost-and-found items, etc.

And they've also begun to post bus poetry, which I've seen in other cities, and love.

Here's the one I read and learned this morning. It's by Octovio Paz.

Brotherhood

Homage to Claudius Ptolemy

I am a man: little do I last

and the night is enormous.
But I look up: the stars write.
Unknowing I understand:
I too am written, and at this very moment
someone spells me out.