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Bus Stop

Posted on September 24, 2011

The bus pulls up to the faded green sign,
An impatient beast uttering low rumblings and carbon emissions.
For once I am on the inside looking out
And because I have nothing better to do
I stare out the window, down at the sidewalk,
Down to where sits you.
I’ve never seen you before
But I’ve seen you millions of times
In other faces and forms of anonymous beings
Barely acknowledged by the corner of my eye.
Now, to amuse myself, I study your features,
your posture and demeanor my momentary playthings.
Is it the weariness of a long-suffered life,
Or merely the boredom of the moment
That slumps your shoulders and bends your feeble frame?
As I trace the lines of your wizened face
And memorize the way you clasp your hands between your open knees–
or maybe they rested limply on the pavement at your sides, I can no longer recall–
I convince myself I’ve engaged in a profound experience
Which I will undoubtedly have forgotten five minutes from now
When, just before the hiss of the brake release
As the beast announces its departure
With one final cloud of acrid smoke
To grace your mouth and nostrils,
You raise your head.
And because of the darkened interior
And the sunlight glinting off the black-tinted windows back into your face
You cannot see
That for one brief moment
Our eyes meet.

Last edited by Visual Lullaby on September 25, 2011, 12:15 pm


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One response to “Bus Stop”

  1. Good picture/painting…
    I really like the last part. The punch.

    Interesting you quote from Kahlil Gibran.   When I was 21 or so, his book "The Prophet" caused a profound change in my ‘hell raising’ (motorcycles, beer and girls) outlook on life.
    Very calm, thoughtful.

    "You cannot see
    The for one brief moment
    Our eyes meet."

    There’s probably a typo there in the second line. But the thought is good.
    I was working on a similar vein of thinking a while back. It’s an unfinished poem about driving in traffic. But on a deeper level, it touches on the same emotion you elicit. The odd alienation of Man to Man caused by the impersonal momentum of modern life.  The way Life almost (almost) forces us towards superficiality.

    Daily Commute

    A cruel cacophony of Life
    A whirling dervish grinning strife
    A hostile wall of smoking tires
    And high compression vapor fires
    Combustion engines on a roll
    Uncaring of the human toll.

    The honking horns and dazzling lights
    The angry claims to challenged rights
    Blood pressure boiling through the roof
    Unable to remain aloof
    Velocity comes screaming in
    While pistons blur and camshafts spin.

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