haikus from Boston

Had to head up to Boston this week for some meetings.  Delayed too much before buying my ticket on Bolt Bus, so traveled Peter Pan on the going and Bolted back.  $7 more for PP, but _same fantastic bike regs_:  stow it in the ample undercarriage, so long as that's your only 'checked' piece.  Which is really all that mattered to me.
I love to arrive early and bike around the garages at Port Authority, then wind up at my 'gate' from the inside out.
'thanks for taking the hit for we travelers,' i think, lungfuls of unfiltered CO2 stirring my gratefulness to Port Authority employees and bus drivers who regularly dock and un/load here.
Fast forward a coupla hours, and i am treated to a gorgeous sunset in New Haven.  I've lately missed you, old friend.  Your approach was once the promise I strained towards, you coaxed first to see level, from New York's varied waterfronts: 

New Haven sunset
rosegold light limning hollows
cant recover jobs.

Highway 95
Arterial erosion
Sliced sound-front cities.

My bus pulled into South Street Station only 15 minutes late, despite the wily traffic tendrils NYC wrapped around our coach (unfailing reminders of the costs of exit) for well over 20 miles from the bus station.  I pedaled towards the Longfellow Bridge and the sweet Inn that awaited me--an old brick fire house in the eerily Orange County-like 'scape around MIT.
Wheeled violeta right in with me, checked in and dropped belongings in my 2nd floor tastefully-antiqued room, messenger bag splayed open in the middle of a beautiful, old quilt-covered 4 poster bed.

After dinner with a friend recently relocated there, those empty new, bike-laned streets were irresistible. Spun several circuits around that whirring nabe...thinking it must house knowledge production's heaviest infrastructure...maybe for  the entire northeast?
so clean and new it felt more mysterious than the third Italy.
Soul-less and tidy like an edge city for robots, Irvine with an icy edge, with fewer cars (though the
same parking structure square footage, it appeared):


deserted night streets
whir of knowledge production
where's your soul, Cambridge?

graceful pedal strokes
streets striped for Einstein's offspring
face so cold brain's numb.

I returned to my anachronistic fire house and slept fast.

Somehow I woke at 5 though, and by 7 had had a cup of coffee and was taking off for a short run along the Charles.  Low fifties and heavy wet air, i could have left the soft shell on the soft bed. 
breakfast.
pedaled to HBS.
dizzying 4 and a half hours of scheming with the Next City Tuners.
pedaled back downstream to Boston, downtown.  early for my 3:30 bus, so:

cruised through Chinatown
Had ample time for mooncakes
lotus seed, no egg.


Monday afternoon, Thanksgiving week really was striking:


Bolt bus from Boston
Frosh class Thanksgiving road trip
Darien was dark.


Bolt bus eavesdropping
Anticipatory calls
Facebook chat sessions.


not far out of Boston, 'twas sunset again.  when was the last i watched 2 days in a row? i thought to myself.  grateful:

Sunset's still sunset
Promise's sky striations
Beckon down the road.


I could do little more than stare out the window, so full was my brain and heart from the morning's conversation.  Anything could happen these days.


Westchester County
Glad to pass through you quickly
Your roots are showing.