by Richard Vince

The traffic lights turn red...
The screeching of the brakes
Wakes me. And all the time
I sat there being indecisive
Waiting for the bus to move again.

Tuesday morning. 7.45.

Do I know where I'm going?
Waiting, being lulled
By the whining transmission
As I am moved once again...
When was the last time
I moved myself?

I feel like a marionette,
Only the puppeteers have changed
So so many times...
Enough to fill a page
Or was I just letting them?

Do I know what I'm looking for?
I haven't found it...
Maybe it's not out there...
Or maybe I have found it
And I just don't know it yet.

Maybe I am too self involved
For my own good.
It worries me extensively...

Well, here I am
In my new happiness...
I really feel fulfilled
Because she is happy
And I feel fine
But once more alone...

On this bus. Alone...
Facing the world. Alone...
Living my life. Alone...

And I think that that
Is the way it should be.


Posted on 12/11/2001
Copyright © 2024 Richard Vince

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