brian m. carlson brian m. carlson Writings version 2 of the GNU General Public License the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License

Sitting in the back of the bus
the roar of the air conditioner and engine
is deafening, swallowing, whole.

It consumes all thoughts, ideas, words.
Only gestures communicate:
Can I sit there?
Excuse me, you forgot your bag.

It is calming, soothing, equalizing.
There is neither dialect nor accent,
only raw suggestions, queries, aspirations.

The bus winds down streets, stops, corners;
the flow of people in and out of seats, leaning
against poles, is ephemeral
motion by bus and person
from place to place, thought to thought,
newspaper column to newspaper column.

Brief words remain in motion.