September 05, 2013

Transit

Hey, there's a bus coming.
Get on it.

You're on the bus now, paying the fare.

It's dark outside, very dark.
The driver doesn't have a face.

It's cold on the bus, very cold.
You don't have a jacket.

You're sitting in the back.
Hug yourself.
It's so cold.

The bus is stopping, picking people up.
A dozen people get on the bus.

The new passengers don't have faces.
They sit down up front.
They turn around and watch you hug yourself.
The bus driver drives on.

If they had faces, they'd be laughing at you.
Try to ignore them.
Keep hugging yourself.
It's so cold inside and so dark outside.

The bus stops again.
Two people get on.
They don't have ears or noses or mouths or hair.
Only eyes.

They sit down next to you, one on each side.
They stare at you.
They watch you hug yourself.
They cry.
So cold.

The bus driver drives on.

You look out the window and watch the dark go by.
Your stop is coming up.
You signal the driver.

The bus slows to a stop and you stand up.
The passengers watch you walk toward the door.
Their faceless heads are hissing at you.

You get off.
You're standing inches from a deep pit in the earth.
Jump in.

You're falling, falling, falling.
It's warm and bright inside your mind.
You have a face and it smiles.
You're where you need to be.

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