Someone had penned
"I luv cunt"
on the window
in purple marker.
Boy with too awake eyes
plagues his older brother away.
One stop gone
and he calls him back;
a stringent rhythm.
In this damp heat
too thick a coat
and the tether frayed.
Well, I'm the perfect target audience for this one. My dependence on the bus together with the noisome experience of being on the bus, the failure of the bus to come on time, the claustrophobia, the hopelessness, the feeling of being trapped, the lack of creaturely satisfaction in the proximity of one's kind -- and this is just to begin to list the problems. For me it's got so bad that more often than not I simply won't get on board. If the weather is foul, I'll hobble on home with the cane, and spend the ensuing hours in lassitude and misery. A few days will go by, and then I'll try again. As this massive disinclination gathers urgency, it seems there is nowhere to turn, no one with whom to share my disenchantment with everything bus-related. Finally it all becomes too much, literally intolerable even to form the word "bus" in the mind.
ReplyDeleteAnd then I come to the bar, and down a fresh Bus note.
This trip was a low and that "lack of creaturely satisfaction" - when it comes on it comes on hard.
ReplyDeleteStill, glad this wasn't a solitary journey.