if this were my last time
awaking from slumber
to the cumbersome hum
of the bus, i'd be at peace.
each day i walk between these
seats that sit like gnarled
teeth, collecting men
like plaque in it's cavities.
and it's then that i fight;
i fight, in silence, every
grain of reason that's
been bottled inside my heart
like sand in time.
like auburn yarn, her hair is
tied behind her; taking care
to decieve the eyes between
it's time drying within the confines
of this homeless smile.
her burden, birthed in these streets, is
dispersed somewhere between the first
stop and the past, for at last she looks
to her side and provides an epiphany.
she unwinds her yarn, letting it fall;
finding solace in sliding the band
over the bared arm of her scared
daughter. their shared smile stands
as fares exchange hands at every
pause for the cause.
i watch as they're brushed away
at the door, fog of war billowing
before them, and i begin to wonder.
i wonder when again i'll find
unincumbered slumber, and i dream
that i may find peace among these
seats, as men rot like teeth
in this metallic smile.
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