Thursday, July 19, 2007

bus love

People sitting on stoops in front of houses where all the windows are broken

Some people sit inside of houses with no broken windows and I realize that

Freedom comes in all kinds of clever disguises

I keep my eyes open every second of the day

A man walks in the middle of the street, unaware that the bus follows him like a rabid dog

Another man gets onto the bus, talking loudly to everyone. The people stare at him like he is an alien

Some of them shake their heads. I turn down my Ipod so that I can hear what he is saying

I try to make eye contact but he will not look at me

His hair blows in the wind from the open window

Sometimes when I take the bus I close my eyes because I don't want to see anything.

Sometimes I look down at a book that I can't concentrate on, or focus on the music I am listening to.

But most of the time the bus is my muse.

A lot of my questions about life are answered on the bus, and when I have no questions sometimes I sit by a window, open it, and feel the wind on my face, pretending that I am somewhere else.

Sometimes I pretend that I am traveling through time.

I love the bus.