April 11th
On the bus I dream
of the Big One; I wonder,
are these the last people I’ll ever see?
(looking at their phones eyes
glassy as the water)
--the bridge under us hums
musically. Our feet are headphones. We
are alone
and together. Floating like a bubble.
Skimming the pond.
On the bus I dream
of the Big One; I wonder,
are these the last people I’ll ever see?
(looking at their phones eyes
glassy as the water)
--the bridge under us hums
musically. Our feet are headphones. We
are alone
and together. Floating like a bubble.
Skimming the pond.