(no subject)

[dig_the_earth]

i have ridden this bus before
it has always led me
to you
and now that i ride it
to another place
it seems so much longer
the potholes more jolting
the rains fall harder
through open windows

hands folded on my lap
body language is obvious
demure and quiet
hair in my eyes
the bus is not leading me
to you

but those same houses roll past
same man on the bench
with his rubber boots on
those little food stores
and foreign signs

the driver squints into the mirror
and i shrink under his gaze

he does not know
which stop is mine