Le bus

This freedom,

as I take the bus into town,

no obligations,

places to be,

people to call,

riding to the soft sleepy shadows of the sun through the windows.

The lull of stop and go, sliding doors,

paper cut out apartment buildings,

every stop I have seen a thousand times

and yet still so foreign and beautiful.

Half dreaming

as the bus moves its way to the city

carving next to the river,

the old stones

grown green and mossy,

my fingertips tracing the windows

the lights,

the moon,

the jigsaw puzzle of this city;

the sun sneaking in through

the cracked windows,

the bustling terraces,

bicycles,

the quiet shadows of people

making their way home at night.

The feeling of estrangement,

and the freedom I get from it,

riding the bus into town with no one to see

and nothing to do.