Friday, December 27, 2013

Buses are places I write


My café, my library,
With cell phones and babies crying
Earnest conversations, nanny reprimands,
Brief exchanges between the driver and his flock

I take these slow lugubrious trips as inspiration for my pen
Inspiration is a big word
Long, many syllabeld, deep meaning

Does the ride inspire or the company of strangers

Strangers whose tales I do not tell

Whose lives I fail to touch

Strangers who do not reach me

Whom I never meet or greet

Is this inspiration or just passing of time?

Filling a note book with mere observance and day dreams?  


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